Click and Other Stories
by TheEquestrianidiot 2.0
Summary: Gruesome tales and heartwarming romance! Whether it's flesh eating zombies, a cute little ship, or just a random one-shot, this story will be a series of little drabbles and stories put together for nothing other than your entertainment. Requests are open. Latest story, "Unnamed Story".
1. Click

Click.

A small hand reached back into the box of shotgun shells.

Click.

Two. Six more.

Click.

The young boy looked off to his right. His sister had her shoulder pressed up against the front door.

Something was pounding on it from the other side.

Click.

He heard a familiar voice, grizzled and raspy. Grunkle Stan.

The voice gurgled and moaned from the other side of the fortified door.

Click.

Nails scattered onto the floor. A board came loose.

Click.

The boy shot an anxious look at the girl.

His hand scrambled for another shell.

Click.

Just one more-

Click.

The door's hinges snapped loose from its frame, collapsing onto the girl, a writhing mass of blood-stained, pasty colored skin pinning her down.

Mabel let out a terrified scream. Dipper struggled to pump the shotgun.

What was left of Stan craned its head towards Dipper. It let out a gurgling moan, blood frothing out of the massive gash in its throat. An ear-splitting blast, and the man's head exploded. The shotgun's recoil nearly knocked Dipper off his feet.

Mabel began to get up from under the blood-stained, wooden debris, but another creature was already coming through the doorway. This time, a large man, with dark, clotted blood dripping out from where its lower jaw used to be. Its eyes locked with Dipper's, and its strained groaning peaked in intensity.

Its torso exploded in a shower of bone fragments and rancid meat, spraying the two walking corpses behind it, who quickly began to take its place. Again, Dipper pumped the shotgun, another empty shell clattering onto the floor, joining the first. Another blast, and another creature fell, its leg severed at the hip.

Mabel stood up on shaky legs and prepared to run, but was soon dragged back down by a cold, rotting hand. A jawless torso gripped her leg with one arm, crawling towards her with the other. The girl uttered a panicked yell for help.

Dipper ejected another shell, then attempted to aim the shotgun at the crawling creature, the weapon shaking in his grip. As he fired, he felt a sharp pain in his wrist, involuntarily jerking the barrel to his right. A woman's midsection disappeared in a cloud of red mist.

His wrist now broken and useless, Dipper dropped the gun and sprinted over to his sister. He grabbed an outstretched hand with his good arm and began to pull with all his strength... but they were too strong, too many. Slowly, Mabel was being dragged into the growing crowd of the undead. Dipper tried to gain a foothold, but it wasn't enough. More lifeless hands latched onto the girl, dragging her further and further.

Dipper wouldn't let go. Tears in his eyes, he strained, pulled with everything he had.

Mabel called out to Dipper. She told him to go, to leave him, to run. Dipper shook his head frantically, and kept pulling. Mabel repeated herself, now yelling at the boy. For a moment, Dipper stood motionless. He looked around, scanning for an exit. They were coming through the windows now, pouring through every possible entrance. His eyes came to rest on the staircase. There was only one way to go. Up.

Tears still flowing, he looked back at Mabel. He said he was sorry, so sorry, then, reluctantly... he let go. Dipper looked away as his sister, his friend disappearing into the growing mass of writhing, dead flesh.

Dipper turned around and ran, ran as fast as he could, ignoring the terrible pain in his wrist, until everything was a blur. Next thing he knew, he was in his bedroom, back against the locked door, chest heaving as he panted heavily. He could hear them just outside, wet slabs of meat sloughing off as they dragged themselves up the stairs.

He looked around, again searching for a method of escape.

The window.

Dipper hurried to the window and smashed it out with the butt of the shotgun and looked down. It wasn't a long drop, and the bushes would soften the impact, but it would still hurt.

His feet dangled out first. There wasn't too much time now. They were at the door.

Bang. Rip. Snap. The door was smashed down, and the horde pushed themselves through the doorframe. It was now or never, the pain that could follow or not.

Dipper pushed out. The rush of air distracted him from a second blur of color below him, red and green.

"OW!"

"Shit!"

Someone cursed loudly as Dipper slammed his feet on top of them. He fell over, landing on his back as the person collapsed in front of him. Red hair spilled past the teenagers shoulders and face. She was quick though, spinning on the ground, and scrambled away, staring at Dipper with bright green eyes.

"Dipper!" Wendy Corduroy gasped, pushing herself to a stop, and clawing her way to him. "Dipper, what the heck?" she angrily scolded him at first.

"Wendy," Dipper tried saying her name, his voice shaking. There were too many things to be said, too many things to be asked.

"Hey," her voice calmed, soothing Dipper as she scanned around her. Dipper quickly followed her gaze, and saw shadows skulking closer in the light of the Mystery Shack lights. "Hey, get up dude. We can get out of this. C'mon," Wendy kneeled before him, and offered her hand.

"I'm sorry-"

"Not now," Wendy shook her head, "you can give me a massage for my back after this, "she told him as she lifted him up. Dipper nodded and felt the tiniest reassurance only a confident leader could inspire, "let's get your sister and anyone else who's not one of these bastards."

Dipper finally stood, and was ready to fall again.

His sister.

Mabel.

"She's..."

"Move!" Wendy pulled him away, and they ran over towards the darkened forest lining, hiding just behind the outhouse. "Okay, one sec," Wendy told Dipper, adjusting something unseen behind her, and then she kneeled to be level with him again "okay. Now, what was it?"

"Mabel's dead."

He had a moment of clarity as he informed her. It wasn't that he had just let his sister go. Dipper was never going to see his sister again. Ever. The only thing left was memories, and should the horde be kind enough to her body, a shambling flesh-eating monster resembling his loving Mabel. There was nothing but pain as his throat choked.

"Oh my god," Wendy's closed her eye lids tightly. She cupped her hand to her face, covering her tightly locked beautiful eyes. Dipper couldn't afford the strength to attempt holding the tears back. Silently he wept for the only person in his life that had been there for him more than anyone else.

"They got her," Dipper croaked, his vocal cords trembling, unable to speak properly.

"Dipper, I'm... I'm so sorry."

Wendy reached out, and pulled the tear stricken boy close to her. He felt her arms around him, tightly clutching his shoulders as she squeezed him. Something wet hit the fabric of his vest, soaking into his shoulders. Then she pushed away, wiping away at her face, and she looked into his eyes, pouring that grand strength she always held on reserved for Dipper.

"We're getting out of this, you got me?" Wendy quietly told him, "we're going to get into Stan's stupid car and we'll drive our way out of here. I can hotwire it and we can get the hell outta here."

"O-okay," Dipper nodded, sniffling as he let out a trembling sigh.

"Bud," Wendy told him, holding onto his shoulders, "we're in this together now. Okay? Us." Dipper nodded again. "No more guns- that just attracts more of them. If one get's in the way, get a shovel or something."

"Okay. I'm ready," Dipper nodded.

"Stay close," Wendy said as she stood. Dipper turned around the side of the outhouse. There were a few of those walking corpses, turned away and looking inside the building. Dipper managed to check on the window he had leapt out of: the group of flesh eaters had started looking outside, groaning and moaning their way around.

Wendy waved for him to follow, sticking to the forest edge. There, across the parking space was the lone red car.

Wendy crept low, constantly shifting her gaze between the walkers and the car, checking their progress closer to their one real means of transportation. They could see their image reflected on the side of the polished car, they were so close.

Wendy made for the vehicle in a quick burst, and opened the side door. Her luck would not suit them well- a large figure appeared on the other side, growling and clawing for them as it walked around. One of those monsters had spotted them.

"Shit!" Wendy shouted, uncertain what to do. She was halfway in the car. Dipper wasn't close enough to jump in yet.

"Wendy!" Dipper called, louder than he wanted. The single walker turned it's gaze to him, and Dipper heard similar growls behind him. He had alerted them to his presence. "Just get it started! I'll keep them busy!"

"Dipper!" Wendy shouted, but Dipper refused to let her defend him any more. He needed to play hero just for a bit. Just for the time being. He charged forward and slammed the side door shut, and leapt aside as the figure swiped for him.

"Get it started! I'll-"

Dipper's mouth fell open. The figure, still stumbling towards him with his mouth hung open, was Soos.

"No, Soos," Dipper gasped, crawling backwards. The entire stomach of the poor handyman had been split open, revealing still dark crimson innards that had been torn out and left hanging hap-hazard from his wide tear. There was no recognition to Dipper in Soos's eyes, as had been with everyone else who Dipper had seen before becoming one of them.

Behind him more of them tumbled closer. His hands grasped behind him, trying to stand himself up. Instead he found something smooth and cylindrical.

A shovel.

_This is for the zombies, _a familiar, friendly voice rang through Dipper's head.

"You would have wanted me to stop you," Dipper told the lurching body of his former friend. Dipper grasped the shovel as best he could, trying to swallow the pain in his wrist and fingers. He stumbled around the former Soos. The man was easily twice as tall as Dipper, but a shovel would close that distance.

He had treated Dipper like a friend from the moment they met.

Dipper took a step backwards, his feet wide apart. The car next to him spluttered, but refused to turn on.

Soos had never asked Dipper for anything, but always helped him.

Dipper readied his arms, a swing prepared. Car lights flickered into the dark night around him.

Soos considered the twins like extended family. Never once as anything other than best friends.

Dipper swung as hard as he could manage.

The edge of the shovelhead split across Soos's neck, slashing open the neck viciously. Metal bit into the spine, imbedding itself deep into the nerves that allowed the body to operate past death. Soos halted, a Shovel buried into the side of his throat, and fell to the side, twitching.

More were coming. Dipper saw their silhouettes against the remaining light of the Mystery Shack, stumbling closer. His hands were raw and torn from the swing, and the shovel was clearly locked into bone and marrow. He was defenseless.

"DIPPER!"

The side door swung open again, and Wendy waved to rush in. The El Diablo was running.

Dipper took his feet and darted past the closest zombie and threw himself into the car. Struggling to find a seat, he scrambled to close the door behind him.

Click.

The door locked in place just as the undead around him clambered onto the car. Clawing at the glass, climbing onto the back window, they wanted in.

"Hold on!" Wendy shouted, the car ready for action, she put the gear from parked to four wheel, and slammed on the gas. One zombie fell to the lurching car's forward momentum, quickly crushed and left a puddle of rotting blood and guts in its wake.

"We're getting out?" Dipper asked, sliding a seatbelt over his body as the car started making it's first turn.

"Yeah!" Wendy hollered, almost bouncing in her seat, elated to survive the encounter. The engine roared with triumph, speeding ahead. "We're getting out of this! WE'RE GETTING OUT-"

There had still been one on the ceiling. It slipped down the front of the car, unable to stop itself. Wendy screamed along with Dipper, and she tried slamming on the breaks. The dirt road was mixed with blood as the zombie hit the ground and was pinned between tires and gravel. The El Diablo wouldn't stop moving.

Off the path. Into the woods.

BOOM.

Dipper felt an explosion of air near his face. The world had gone from zooming to entirely still in a split second. His chest ached, probably from the pull the seatbelt as the car slammed into a tree.

"Wendy?" Dipper asked. No response.

He turned to the driver side. She wasn't there.

There was a small hole through the window, split glass and slivers of blood running down the sides of fissures in the windshield. Looking past the shattered window, Dipper saw a figure pulling itself up against a tree.

"No," Dipper scrambled to undo himself from the seatbelt.

Click.

He was free, and managed to push open the door. Walking along side of the blockading tree, Dipper found the last survivor of the night along side himself.

"Dipper," Wendy groaned. Huge gashes torn across her face and arms, blood pouring from her incisions freely. One of her arms had a fractured bone protruding from the side, piercing out of her morbidly like a malformation. Her eyes fluttered, staring at him.

"Wendy!" Dipper gasped, running and sliding to be aside her.

What could he do? What magic could undo this damage? What god could send a miracle to save her? What devil would Dipper have to make a deal with to save Wendy?

Strong Wendy. Survivor Wendy. Dying Wendy.

His Wendy.

"I... I don't know what to do," Dipper managed to splutter, more tears falling down his face, refusing to look anywhere on her but her eyes. Blood splattered on her face, and her already pale skin was growing paler.

She was bleeding out.

"Hey," Wendy's still functioning arm shaking reached out, and after a struggling moment, landed a hand on his head, "I'll let your sister... know you never gave up."

"Wendy, please don't leave me."

"I can't go anywhere else, buddy," Wendy told him.

"I don't want you to go away," Dipper cried, starting to hold her hand against his cheek.

"I'd promise you I wouldn't go," Wendy managed, her eyes starting to close, "but I could never lie to my... my man," Wendy chuckled to Dipper, and gasped. "Oh... oh boy."

"Wendy?" Dipper asked.

Her eyes lost their light. She was gone.

Dipper bellowed, a crushed, beaten, broken heart tearing into the horrible night as the last person who he could have hoped to escape with died in front of him. The girl he trusted with his life.

The girl he loved.

Dipper fell back. There was no where else now. No one left to rely on. The world was ending, and he was the last person to see it all collapse before the inevitable took hold.

Feeling drained from him. Dipper felt the acceptance; of struggling for life becoming obsolete.

No more.

Dipper slowly made his way over to Wendy's body and sat down, staring blankly at the ground. He felt numb. Empty.

Suddenly, he noticed an old revolver in the back of Wendy's jeans. He pulled it out, the blank, lifeless look never leaving his face.

Absentmindedly, he slid the cylinder out from the gun. One bullet.

The number echoed through his otherwise empty mind.

Just one bullet, he thought.

He slid the cylinder back into the pistol with a click.

Just one bullet.

He heard the groaning approach rapidly. It sounded like a full hoard.

Just one bullet. The phrase began to lose meaning.

He pulled the revolver's hammer back with his good thumb.

Just one bullet.

He saw seven of them shuffle towards him, out of the corner of his eye.

Just one bullet.

Dipper felt the barrel press against his temple. He could smell their breath.

Just. One. Bullet.

He began to squeeze the trigger.

Just one-

A wave of incredible pain shot through Dipper's skull. For a moment, his senses were completely overwhelmed, his ears ringing and head throbbing with a splitting headache. But then, he heard... music. It was... oddly familiar. Suddenly, he recognized it; it was from a movie, probably a favorite of his, but... what, exactly? And why was it playing now? Shouldn't he be, you know, dead? Perplexed, he forced his eyes open, immediately focusing them on the source of the noise.

The end credits to 'Night of the Living Dead' scrolled down the TV screen.

Dipper stared silently for a moment, processing the situation... then chuckled quietly, part relief, part wry amusement. He picked himself up off the floor - undoubtedly having fallen off the recliner moments before - and, rubbing the newly-formed lump on his head, looked around at the shards of the glass bowl of snacks he had apparently brought with him. Just as he began to consider exactly how pissed Grunkle Stan would be, (and exactly what he'd do to avoid having to clean up his mess) he noticed another noise, just barely audible over the TV. He immediately recognized the girl snoring. Just to his left, sprawled lazily on the recliner. Wendy lay, her chest heaving slightly as she snored softly, a small puddle of drool collecting under her.

Dipper smiled slightly. He knew what he had was just a stupid dream... but it was still a relief to see his friend not being eaten alive by rotting corpses.

For a moment, Dipper considered waking Wendy up, maybe getting her to help clean up the shattered bowl, then heading up to his nice, cozy bed... but he just didn't have the heart to disturb the girl. And, besides, cleaning up would be the responsible thing to do.

He saw the blanket laying on the side of one of the kitchen chairs. Walking towards it, he pulled it down, and draped it over the sleeping girl's figure.

Shrugging, Dipper brushed a few crumbs off the recliner, clearing away a little spot for himself. He hopped onto the armrest and lay back, closing his eyes.

In the sudden absence of thought and vision, images from his nightmare poured back into his mind: his sister being dragged off to be eaten alive; Stan's face, with loose, wet flesh hanging from his cheeks; the bedroom door finally snapping under the weight of a half-dozen walking cadavers, Wendy's dying face, the pain of that one bullet, and once again, the terrified face of a young girl facing a horrifying, inevitable death. Somehow, that image, the sensation of releasing his grip, abandoning Mabel to her death, the horrible realism of it all... that was the worst. He couldn't get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

Thus, he lay there for several minutes, fitfully and futilely attempting to drift off to sleep. Finally, he gave up, and opened his eyes... which immediately focused on the still figure across the recliner. Once again, he was aware of Wendy's presence, and, suddenly, he felt... safe. The images in his head disappeared, his body calmed, and his eyelids grew heavy.

Once again, Dipper drifted off to sleep.

Wendy rubbed her eyes, waiting a moment for them to adjust to the relatively blinding light in front of her. She sighed. Dipper left the TV on.

She reached out a hand, groggily groping around for the remote. Wooden table... cushion... boy... boy? She looked to her side and saw Dipper proped up against the armrest. She smiled as she noticed the blanket laying across her. Suddenly, she didn't know why, but she placed an arm around her young friend and pulled him in close. She felt... Safe. Protected. The boy shifted and absentmindedly snuggled in close to her. She chuckled. Out of a small gut feeling, she lifted his cap and placed a small kiss on his head. He sighed as she saw a gentle smile appear on his face. "Goodnight, Dipper."

Now where was... Ah, remote.

Without hesitation, she pointed the remote towards the glowing plastic box.

Click.

* * *

_Had you guys going there, didn't I? I __actually almost cried writing this out. And the scene with Wendy that EZB did . . . . *Sniffs loudly* It's just so feel-y! _

_Anyway, this was the first, and hopefully not the last, story that I introduced for a series of, w__ell oneshots! Hopefully you enjoyed it just as much as I did! And don't worry, more are coming, and requests are open. Just, try to refrain from Pinecest, please. Anything else is fair game. Thanks again to EZB for all the help and remember to stay awesome, and I __will see YOU . . . in the next chapter. Bye-bye! (No, I'm not Markiplier. I just love that saying!)_


	2. The Big Burger

_I own nothing._

* * *

"I just can't believe it…" said an astonished Dipper Pines, amazed at what he held in hands. It was something so amazing, he could hardly speak of it's magnificent glory. He only held such a sacred object in his dreams. The young boy could scarcely believe he held it in his fingers

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" asked an equally-astounded Mabel Pines, staring at it with large, watery eyes as the holy item shined in the light. This was something she had heard about, but she dismissed it as simply being a mythical fairytale among the public.

But no, it was true. This miraculous object, did, in fact, exist, and her brother was clutching it in his hands.

"Dipper…" the peppy pre-teen managed to choke out before screaming in joy, "read it out loud one more time…"

With trembling hands, the young detective held up the beloved paper and read it's magnificent text out loud, in a dreamy, trance-like way;

_"The Big Burger has given out free coupons for all their good customers so they can enjoy five free delicious Heart-Destroyer burgers with a side of delicious French fries that are dripping with grease and oil and quadruple-sized sugary drinks filled with high fructose corn syrup. Come by six o' clock on Wednesdays and Sunday evenings to claims your meal(s)."_

Mabel gasped with a colossal grin on her face, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she fell onto the floor, with her arms on her chest and both hands resting on top of one another.

Dipper's arms trembled as he held the fast-food certificate in his hands. Mabel was so excited by it that she began drooling a little with her mouth slightly hung open, making gurgling noises.

"Man," stated Dipper, eyeing it like a pirate eyes his gold. "Now I know how that elf-guy with that sword that has to go and save that princess chick in those Nintendo games feels like when he holds that three-piece golden triangle thingy over his head."

Mabel stayed on the floor, with her eyes closed, still cherishing the magical sensation of those powerful words inscribed on the coupon. She began drooling even more as she imagined the scrumptious and gargantuan cheeseburger dripping with grease hot from the grill.

Dipper snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Hey Mabel!"

Mabel opened one eye, and said, "What, bro? Can't you see I'm busy drooling over here?"

Dipper turned his entire body, and waved the golden coupon in the air, "I got an idea. Let's use this coupon, get some free food!"

"No way!" cried Mabel, sitting up and flaring her nostrils "We're not actually gonna use it, it's designed to just look at it and taste the food with your imagination."

Mabel fell back on the floor with another mammoth and silly grin on her face, dreaming up her meal and smacking her lips at the thought of the juiciness of the burger when she took a bite.

Dipper groaned and slammed his forehead. "No, Mabel, we can get free meals with this thing. I'm hungry, and I'm gonna use it."

Mabel, once again, sat up quickly and flashed Dipper a mean glare. "No way," began Mabel, getting up to her feet, "I'll challenge you for it."

Dipper arched his eyebrow, and he smiled a bit. "Ok, then!" replied Mabel, nodding his head." Ok, then. Pick your poison…"

**Dipper and Mabel both stared each other down like dueling samurais in a very lousy old Japanese B-movie.**

"Ready…" began Mabel, smiling wickedly, as she assumed that she had this small contest in the bag. "Set…"

Dipper, on the other hand, looked much more relaxed than confident. He had a small grin on his face, and his eyes were half-closed, showing no signs of hostility, worry, or competitiveness. In fact, he was too relaxed.

"Go!"

The "no-blinking" contest had begun. Mabel stared at Dipper with her eyes wide open, smirking at the thought that Dipper would not be able to resist the burning of his eyes when they were dry. Mabel stared, anxiously awaiting her brothers submission. However, Dipper remained as still as a statue, still with that small smirk and his eyes half-closed, almost as if he were sleepy.

"Heh-heh-heh," snickered Mabel, eyeing her brother fiendishly. "It won't be long, now…"

_Ten minutes later…_

Mabel's eyes were bloodshot and tears were streaming out of her eyes like waterfalls, and a light sweat had begun to drench her face. She trembled violently, and she tightly ground her teeth.

Dipper, on the other hand, remained perfectly still, and he did not move an inch, and he still had the same exact expression on his face as he did ten minutes ago (bored, sleepy, etc.).

Mabel, by now, had her eyelids only meters apart, and she could no longer bear the burning pain from her non-blinking eyes. Her eyes shut, and Mabel screamed as she slammed her hands over her eyelids, and she threw herself to the ground.

Dipper still did not move a muscle, however. He maintained that same smirk, same stature, and position. For an entire ten minutes, the boy hadn't flinched at all.

But just then, the real Dipper's head popped into the room, and he observed Mabel on the floor, screaming her lungs out and rolling in the floor, with her hands over her eyes.

"Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!" giggled Dipper, covering his mouth with his hand.

His voice was drowned out by Mabel's cries, therefore, he took an advantage of this. He leapt inside the room, grabbed the dummy, tossed it behind the recliner, and imitated the pose of the dummy as perfectly as he could.

Finally, Mabel stopped hollering and shrieking, sat up, and rubbed her eyes. Dipper grinned as he observed his defeated sister on the floor.

"Heh-heh-heh!" he chortled victoriously, as he pulled out the coupon. Mabel shook her head, and she uttered, "Ugh. Alright, alright…you win…"

Mabel stood up, closed her eyes and began a speech;

"You've proven yourself to be a worthy opponent, dear brother. You triumphed over me, fair and square. I truthfully and humbly admit defeat to you, my noble challenger. I feel proud to have dueled you, for I have learned a valuable lesson; Patience always wins in the end, never by—"

"Mabel, stop whining and come on!" urged Dipper, his head popping out from the doorway as he had already begun to leave.

As they were walking out the door, and Dipper snatched up the cart keys. But just as he did, his Grunkle Stan's voice came sailing out from his office.

"What're you two doing with the cart keys?"

Dipper's hands hovered over the keys as he froze and heard their grunkle's loud, abrasive voice echo throughout the halls.

"We're just, uh, gonna get some free food at The Big Burger with this coupon we've got, so…"

"'The Big Burger huh? How many free meals can you get with it?"

"You can get…" Dipper paused for a moment, and he whipped out the coupon, re-reading how many free meals they could both receive. "…five of them."

"In that case, since you're taking my cart, order me a Heart-Destroyer Burger with a large side of fries and a mint-vanilla shake!"

Wendy's voice suddenly came sailing in as well from another side of the shack. "Get me one of those too, except make my milkshake strawberry-flavored!"

Soos's voice then came echoing through the halls also. "Hey dudes, I heard you're getting some free food! Could you get me the same thing, except make my milkshake stirred, not shaken? Thanks, dudes!"

Dipper and Mabel both groaned and slapped their foreheads. Not only did they have to order for others, but they had to waste their entire coupon.

"Great," whined Mabel, picking up the keys and inserting them into the keyhole of the door. "Now we have to remember what they ordered."

She turned to Dipper and asked, "Do you remember what Grunkle Stan wanted?"

"Ummmmm…" pondered Dipper, as he and Mabel got into the cart. "I think he said he wanted a milkshake with the bee's knees or something weird like that. I dunno, it's 'old-guy' talk."

As they both pulled out of the driveway and were on the one of the back roads, Mabel began rummaging through the cart's glove box materials hidden in the backseats.

"Uh, hey Mabel?" began Dipper, as he stared at his glanced over at his sister, "I don't think Grunkle Stan would like what you're doing."

"Relax, bro-bro," declared Mabel, "I'm just lookin' at some stuff."

Dipper shook his head in annoyance, and he groaned.

As Dipper got to a red light, and he stared at it impatiently, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. As he stared at it, with all of his attention focused on the light, he heard a loud whirring sound right next to his ear.

His eyes shifted towards the right, and he saw a large, metallic drill swirling right next to his head. Dipper cried out and shoved himself away from the drill.

Mabel cackled as she held the cordless, electric drill and pushed the trigger carelessly. Dipper sighed and he gripped the steering wheel once again.

"Mabel!" scowled Dipper, "Put that thing down! You can hurt someone! This isn't a cartoon!" Mabel stopped cackling as she stared at the drill and continuously pressed the trigger over and over again.

"This thing's cool, isn't it?" exclaimed Mabel. She then put it on the ground where she had found it, and she found another tool: a saw. She waved it around and it made a wobbling sound as it vibrated. Dipper groaned and leaned away from it.

When they finally got to the restaurant, Dipper turned around and stated, "Mabel, we're here. Stop playing with those tools and come take your order! And quit swinging that thing around, you can cut yourself or something!"

"Jeez, broseph," complained Mabel, as she swung the saw back and forth as if it were some kind of magic wand. "You need to chill."

Dipper slapped his forehead in annoyance, and he drove to the drive-through.

"You really need to calm down, Dipper. There's nothing to worry ab..."

Mabel suddenly stopped talking, and something sounding like water constantly dripping from a hole in the ceiling began hitting the carpet floor.

"Uh…Dipper?" asked Mabel, speaking very slowly, "…Would you mind asking for some extra napkins?..."

* * *

They both gazed at the menu, reading down it's list and discussing what kind of side dishes they could get.

"Hmmmm…" pondered the boy, "maybe we should get onion rings?"

"Bleh!" wretched Mabel, clutching her stomach and sticking out her tongue, "You know I hate onions! And we're not shopping for jewelry Dipper, we're at The Big Burger! This is a fast-food joint!"

Dipper rolled his eyes and stuck his head out of the cart. Just as he was about to speak, Mabel interrupted by saying, "No Dipper, wait! Let me order!"

"No way!" declared Dipper, turning his head to the excited Mabel. "Remember what happened last time we were at a restaurant?"

Mabel put a hand to her chin, looking off into her space as her mind faded into the deep, dark corners of her memory…

_Six weeks ago…_

Mabel and Dipper were dining at a luxurious buffet, which had an international theme to it. It had Mexican flags, a sushi bar, German chocolate cake, fancy French dishes (which, in Stan's own words, "tasted like crap"), American-made sodas, Italian pasta, and various other dishes from foreign countries.

Mabel scampered to her seat, clutching a white, large plate mounted with a vast variety of foreign delicacies. She had French fries, American steak, Mexican tacos, Italian pizza, Chinese fried rice, German Sauerkraut, and various other things.

Dipper simply piled up his plate with something that looked like barbecued sausage, drenched in some type of sauce. It looked delicious, and Dipper was first willing to try something simple before engorging himself with the other foreign delicacies.

They both sat down, and they both began stuffing their faces. Mabel shoved her fork into some spaghetti, twirled it, and began noisily slurping up the long, yellow noodles. Dipper shoved his fork into one of the sausages, and he took a big chomp out of it, tasting the sauces and the meat.

"Hmmmm," uttered Dipper, while chewing on the food. "This tastes good, but I can put my finger on the meat."

Mabel lifted her head, and with a goofy look on her face and pieces of food splattered all around her mouth, she replied, in a deep, goofy voice, "Wha'?"

Dipper shoved his teeth into another sausage, and put the entire thing in his mouth, chewing it thoroughly, tilting his head left and right, deciding what the meat might be.

Mabel wiped her face with the elegant, silk tablecloth ( which cost a fortune, and she left a very nasty stain of grease on it), and she asked, "Well, what did the sign say that was next to each plate?"

Dipper swallowed and said, "I dunno. There wasn't a sign on it." He stared back down at his plate, and he prepared to pick up another sausage, when a short, Italian chef with a long, moustache with curls at the end of it and a large, poofy chef's hat strode past them, and he caught a glimpse at Dipper's meal.

But before he did, Mabel said, "I think it's a type of smoked sausage. I've had some of those before. Don't worry about it, it's probably just meat from a pig or something."

The Italian man instantly realized what Dipper was eating, and he quickly scurried over to him with his stubby legs and pointed boots.

"Excuse-a me, sir," said the chef with a thick, Italian accent, "But you're-a eating-a the meat-a for the dogs-a!"

Dipper's pupils shrunk, and his mouth hung open, letting a glob of some of his un-thoroughly chewed meat onto the plate. He stared down at the sausages, now looking quite repulsive. He lifted his eyes and he stared at Mabel, who was staring at her food just as he was.

Dipper simply pushed his plate away slightly in front of him, took a very deep breath, stood up very slowly, and he hollered, "Check, please!"

* * *

"…What? How was that my fault!"

"Because," declared Dipper, giving Mabel an annoyed look, "It was your idea to tell me that it was pig meat."

"Yeah, but you should've asked a chef!" snapped back Mabel, returning the look.

"But you're the one who told me to 'not worry about it!'"

"That doesn't mean you should've believe me!"

The static from the ancient speaker came to life, interrupting their heated debate, and the employee asked, "Welgum uh awker coroa ay I meh orruh?"

Dipper scratched his head, arched his eyebrow, and replied, "Um, could you repeat that?"

The deep-voiced, mumbly speak repeated, "ay I meh orruh?"

"Uhhhhh….what?"

"You deaf? Ay I meh orruh!"

Dipper threw his head in irritation and moaned. He stared in front of him and he could see a female employee shooing away the previous one. She ripped off the headset from his head, and placed it on herself, and she said, "Hi, welcome to The Big Burger, may I take your order?"

Dipper sighed and rolled his eyes and said, "Finally!" under his breath. He leaned out of the window and said, "Uh, yeah, could I get five 'Heart-Destroyer Burgers', all of them with a large fries?"

"How would you like the shakes?"

Dipper shut one of his eyes in thought, and he remembered what the others ordered.

"Uh, make one mint-vanilla, one of them strawberry, and one of them stirred, not 'shaken'?"

"Of course. Anything else?

"Hmmmm….nope. That's it."

The two of them drove up to the next window, anxious to get their hands on their food. They envisioned a delicious burger, drenched in mayo and ketchup, their bags soaked from the greasiness of the fries. The shakes would be made out of a sugary substance, delicious and not-at-all healthy for you. By then, their mouths were watery and their lips were smacking.

When they reached the window, Dipper said, "Uh, yeah, I've got this coupon and…"

But before he could finish his sentence, the cashier screamed, "Don't call me fat! Just gimme a second!"

It was a paranoid teenage nerd with his face covered with acne and hideous braces upon his teeth. His skin was pale and red freckles engulfed his nose and the top of his cheeks. His hair was a fiery orange and was very curly.

Dipper just stared at him, his mouth slightly hanging open and his eyes peeled in shock, still clutching the coupon in between his index finger and thumb.

The anxious teen mashed in buttons into the register, and with a trembling voice, he said, "Th-th-th-th-that'll be f-f-f-four-freakin'-dollars and thirty-cents…"

"Uh, yeah," said Dipper, handing him the coupon, "I got one of these, so…"

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! JUST HANG ON! GOD, WHY DO PEOPLE GOTTA BE SO NOSY!"

Dipper and Mabel both turned to each other, amazed at how paranoid and nutty this employee was. He snatched the coupon, and ran into the back, like a madman. The next few seconds was an awkward silence between the two.

Finally, the boy came back, and he handed them the food, dripping with grease just as they had hoped for. They smiled and licked their lips as they grabbed the food.

Just as Dipper and Mabel were about to observe it, the boy began exclaiming, "You're all the same, ya little piggies! Always comin' here with ya little coupons and furry little sisters! Let me tell ya, I promise to get revenge on the world for what they did to my cat's grandpa! You'll see…YOU'LL ALL SEEEEEE!"

Dipper and Mabel stared at him, wide-eyed, confused, and scared. Dipper instantly shoved his foot on the acceleration and sped off, leaving the crazy teen in a cloud of smoke behind them. Behind them, they could still hear him guffawing maniacally.

Mabel and Dipper finally returned home, with their delicious treasure in their hands, excited to sink their teeth into the burgers and fries. It felt heavy, so they MUST be large and delicious.

Dipper and Mabel both burst through the door, their mouths watering and their tongues hanging out, ready to devour their delicious meals. Wendy, Soos, and Stan scampered into the room, with large grins on their faces and rubbing their hands together, just as ready as the pair of twins.

They placed the food and drinks on the tables, and began yanking out their burgers wrapped in foil and their fries.

Dipper unwrapped his the quickest. The burger looked half as decent as he had hoped. He tilted his head as he observed it's moist bun, and the lettuce and tomatoes looked like they were just thrown on. The boy lifted up the top bun to witness his beloved cheese melted onto the patty.

But no. Staring back at him was the hollow and blank brownness of the patty that had spatula marks on it. It looked so empty and lifeless without cheese.

"Ugggh!" cried out Dipper, throwing his head back in frustration and shaking his fist. "They forgot the cheese! Crap!"

"That's nothing!"

Mabel's voice sailed up from behind him, as she held a meat patty covered with lettuce, cheese, pickles, tomatoes, mayonnaise and ketchup… but no buns. "They forgot the buns!" Mabel bit her lower lip, squinted her eyes, and began squealing angrily.

Dipper blinked twice, and he stared down at his own burger. Just then, another voice shook the entire house from the top to it's bottom.

"WHAT? WHAT IS THIS! THERE'S A DEAD RAT IN MY BURGER!"

Stan held up his burger, revealing the tiny gray rat with a long, furless tail resting on it's side on the patty. He shook the burger violently and hollered at Dipper and Mabel, "IS THIS HOW YOU GET YOUR SICK, TWISTED LAUGHS! BY PUTTING DECEASED RODENTS INTO PEOPLE'S CHEESEBURGERS!"

Dipper stood up and shrugged, "But-but-but Grunkle Stan …we didn't do it! I swear! Mabel and I just…"

Wendy voice suddenly uttered, "There's a dead cockroach in my milkshake." Wendy put the lid back on the cup, closed her eyes, and shook her head. "Seriously, guys? Not cool." Wendy Mabel spoke and defended herself. "Skips, me and Dipper didn't do anything! Honest! All we did was…"

Soos walked up behind them and said, "Uuhhhh, dudes?"

He turned the bag over to the open side, and a bunch of rocks came tumbling out. The cup was just a cup full of pebbles, and his fries were a bunch of ball-point pens.

All three turned to Dipper and Mabel, their angered faces spoke for themselves, demanding an explanation for all of this.

Dipper and Mabel turned to each other, baffled by what was going on. They didn't do anything. All they did was order the food. They didn't pull off any pranks or anything of the sort. All they wanted was a good, greasy, heart-attack inducing meal from The Big Burger.

"But…But…" stuttered Dipper, pathetically trying to defend himself. "But…I…"

Everyone threw their food on the table and stormed out of there, grumbling about their twisted practical jokes.

Mabel approached Dipper and stood next to him. She crossed her arms, shut her eyes, and shook her head slowly. "See that, Dipper? I told you, coupons are meant to be stared at, not used…"


	3. Slender

_He had forgotten. Such was the curse. The coughing had died, and this was good news. Yet he still searched for his friend, unknowingly searching for one who was already lost._

_And so it was; the knocks came in rapid secession, sealing his fate tighter with each rasp. His hair stood on end as he reached out, pressing his hand to the door. All around him, the darkness seemed to be closing in, choking him. With a deep breath, he pressed on the knob, twisting it and slowly opening letting the chilled night air in. And so it was_.

* * *

"Wendy?"

Wendy fell to her back as she gripped her chest. "Ack! Dipper, don't do that!" she said. Her breaths were sporadic, scattered even.

"Oh, sorry," Dipper said as he stared down at her with a shocked expression. "I didn't mean to startle you, but did you find anything yet?"

Wendy rolled over and pushed herself off the floor. Turning around, she placed her fallen cap back onto her head and propped herself back up onto the study podium located in the center of the library where she and he friend were studying. One of the old lights was still flickering on and off, but she wasn't sure how long the light would last. She shook her head and slammed old, dusty tome she was reading closed and looked up and out the window in front of her. Dust had accumulated on it, no doubt from the page after page of grime in the book.

"No," she said, looking back down to the tome. It was old, bound with some sort of cloth and stitched with twine. Cracks ran down its front, where, in faded letters was Of the Forests. She and Dipper had been at the Gravity Falls library for a few hours, looking through various books and articles in hope that they would find something that would help in there current investigation.

Dipper visibly slumped at her response.

"Hey, it's ok Dipper. We may not find anything right away, but I'm not saying something isn't out there about what's going on."

Dipper sighed. "I know, I know. It's just, I'd really like to know what happened. No one just up and disappears. Not in this town."

"I know, Dipper. But we've been at this for hours. You need a break. Look, I'm gonna go ahead and call it quits for the night. And you need to too. You need your sleep."

Dipper look up at the girl and sighed. "Ok," he said.

"Cools. I'm gonna go check out this book and I'll see you tomorrow, okay? This thing was really interesting."

"Ok, Wendy. I'll see you later."

The night seemed to be like any other: the street lamps were dimly shining, the stars were brightly twinkling, the streets were empty and the town was still.

However, a thick, pale fog was just beginning to creep in, splitting down the streets like spiny tendrils, and covering the ground in a soft white glow. It breathed its way in, pulsing and throbbing like it was alive. Lamp after lamp was enveloped in its haze, their lights dimming to but a distant flicker. The town soon seemed much darker than before, and Wendy could hardly see what lay across the street.

She shook her head and walked away. "I wish the news would get these things right, instead of saying it'll be clear all night," she grumbled. Reaching her house a few minutes later, she opened the door and stepped into the empty house. Her father and brothers were out having some "Man Time" so she had the house all to herself. The lights here were significantly darker than in the old library, but when she squinted, she found that she could see. Swerving past the round table in the center of the room, she walked into her kitchen, and cracked open the fridge. Light poured out from inside, making her recoil. Her eyes clenched shut and her face scrunched up as the cold air wrapped around her.

As she opened her eyes, she muttered an inaudible word and began shifting through the various jars, cans, plates and food in the chilly box. "Jelly... bananas... Ah, there we go," she said with a slow nod as she grabbed a ceramic plate. She took it, shut the fridge door, and sat the plate down on the table.

Atop the plate was a small salad, something she had ordered from a local restaurant a day ago. Her stomach gave a low growl as she looked down at the plate of crispy greens and fresh tomatoes. With a bit of croutons, cheese, nuts, and some ham, she was good to go.

It wasn't a long meal - she finished it in almost fifteen minutes. Her stomach gave a satisfied gargle as she reclined in one of the kitchen chairs, exhausted from all the studying. "I think I'll study the effects of a good bath next," she said with a giggle.

Standing up, she took her plate and dropped it in the sink, before turning back to the doorway and sluggishly dragging herself out of the kitchen.

~X~

Wendy reclined in the steaming water, letting loose a long sigh. She sank into the ceramic tub, a smile on her face.

"I'm alone, I had a good dinner, and I'm done studying with Dipper. . ." she told herself, ticking the objects off of an imaginary checklist.

The window beside her - foggy though it was - still gave her a clear view of the fog as it continued to creep onward. She gave the rolling clouds a once-over before ignoring them completely and laying her head back.

She blinked, looking back to the window.

The fog continued to roll in, but that wasn't all. There was something else, something solid in the haze. She squinted and pressed her nose to the glass, but all she could see was a shadow. And as the streetlamps were devoured by the low cloud, she saw even less than that.

So she slowly turned from the window with a shrug. Whatever it was, was lost in the mist. "Not my concern," she muttered as she slipped lower into the water.

~X~

When she had finished with her bath, she made her way back into the main room, a large grin on her face. Her eyelids were barely staying open, but she pushed forward still. Out of the bathroom she went, leaving little prints of water behind her feet. She stepped into the kitchen, and finally, into the living room itself.

She stopped dead in her tracks. A strange marking was carved into the her door, glowing in the dim light. She cocked her head and leaned forward. It was black, oily even, though it did not create a rainbow sheen. It was simply a shiny black.

As she headed towards it, her eyes cleared and she soon found it to be a small circle no larger than her palm. She even pressed her hand against it to check. When she pulled her hand away, she examined dual lines crisscrossing through the center of the circle, their color the same, greasy black as the circle.

She sneered and backed away. Her neck hairs stood on end, and her hand tingled slightly.

Shaking her head and grumbling, she turned to the window and pressed her nose to it. The fog had since taken over the town, clogging her view with a pale smog. Two or three distant lamps flickered occasionally, but other than that there was no movement...

Or was there?

She squinted and bit her lip. Far away, almost completely blurred by the smog, a man was slowly sauntering away. She could make out no details, and just as soon as she had seen it, it was gone in the haze.

Wendy pushed herself away from the window, carefully turning around. Her eyes landed on a wooden table by the window, or more precisely, the book atop it. Drawing in a deep breath of the warm air, she took a few strides towards it, then stopped. One final glance over her shoulder, and she checked the outside again. Nothing but mist.

So she walked to the book, sitting in a chair and flipped open the book. Page after page, dust plume after dust plume, and she landed back where she had started hours before, in the early afternoon. Its ink was dry and fading, and its paper was dusty and jaded, but she made due.

_Chapter IX,_

_Of the one with no name,_

_Four score, and the village of Sunnyside was at peace. They knew not much of what lay beyond, being but a simple farming town._

Wendy huffed and gritted her teeth. "Yeah, good for them." She flipped a few more pages, their age obvious in the crackling sound they made as they fell.

Her eyes traced the top line of this new page with determination.

_...for he was not lame. The forest beyond was dark and thick. Thusly, he and his companion prepared for a long venture._

She skipped to the next page.

_And so it was._

"What?" She leaned forward and reread the line. Then, she scowled and slammed the book. "Who in the hell rips out pages of a book?"

Turning away, she stormed back over to the door, getting very close to it and inspecting the symbol. She was just about to tap it with her foot, when there was a slight tickle in her throat. She gave a single cough, then went back to examining the door. But then the tickle came back, and she coughed again.

One cough, then another. Soon, she was hacking, tossing her head down to the floor and wheezing. That tickle festered into a burn, and her coughs grew dry and raspy. Arching her back, she jerked her head down and gave another cough. Her face grew red and strained, and her body began to shake. Her lungs were running out of air, and her head grew light. But then, they stopped.

She let her body relax as she gulped. The sudden relief brought an odd smile to her face. She tilted her head back, letting her throat recover from the spasms.

Her eye cracked open. Something was at the window.

Wendy snapped her head back down.

It was gone.

Chills ran up her spine as she charged back to her chair and leaned towards the glass panel. Whatever had been there was gone in a flash. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her temples, rubbing them in slow circles. With a sigh, she told herself, "I ought to get some sleep..."

Eyes open once more, Wendy turned away from the window and book, walking back into the center of the room. She hoisted herself up onto the round decorative table, taking in a long, heavy breath.

A low, long churning sound came from her gut. She wrapped her arm around it and bent forward, giving yet another single cough. Biting her lip and closing her eyes, she moaned. "Day old salad..."

She coughed again, this one quieter than the rest. Sniffling, she sat back up. From the corner of her eye, it she saw something. An indescribable something.

But when she turned to look at it, it vanished. She blinked it away.

Falling from the table, she hobbled back to the front windows and peered out into the fog. It was darker than before; the fog had obviously thickened.

And there it was.

That indescribable something. She leaned forward, slowly, taking in light and shallow breaths. Her nose pressed against the cold window as her eyes focused in on this something.

Shrouded in the mist and darkness of the night, something stood across the street. No... someone. She could see nothing: not its color nor its hair nor even its eyes. But its height stood out. It was tall, lean, almost the size of her father. And yet it was impossibility thin. She could see nothing else about it, though.

Except for where it was staring.

Right at her.

She jerked away from the window, turning around and dashing to the stairs. As she treked her way up them, she shook her head loosely and muttered to herself, "No. No I'm done."

Kicking her door open, she charged into the dark bedroom. The air here was cold, chilled even, and she could see her breath as it plumed from her lips. But there was nothing.

And yet, as she looked, she saw it. Etched into the glass was a small circle, no larger than her palm, with two lines crisscrossing through it. And beyond that, the fog grew thicker still.

The coughing came back, harder than ever. She fell to her rump and hacked - hissed- until her face turned a deep crimson. Tears of strain trickled down her cheeks as she forced out all the air she could.

And then it was gone again. She fell to her side with a thud, breathing heavily. Forcing herself up with a strained face, she stumbled back to her feet. When she was stable, she wiped her eyes with a hand and swallowed dryly.

She leaned on her bed, falling into the plush surface with a weak moan. Sniffling, she let her eyes close and her head rest down on the mattress. Everything grew still once more. Even time seemed to stall, and for once tonight, she took in a deep breath of relief.

Tap. Her ear twitched.

Tap. Her eyelids parted.

Tap, tap, head shot up. A light tapping was coming from the living room. She stared into the doorway cautiously, biting her lip hard. A light metallic taste filled her mouth, and she soon felt a warm droplet trickle down her chin. She dabbed it with her hand, not wanting to look down.

Pushing herself up, she slowly made her way to the door. Step by step she approached, her breathing hallow. She poked her head out of the door, looking down upon the room. Everything seemed normal: the light was flickering, the room was neatly arranged, the door was shut and the air was warm. She looked to the left. There was nothing in the window above the table. She looked down.

Blank. No mouth. No eyes. Just white and blank. Wendy stumbled back into the room, falling and rolling with her hand pressed to her mouth to suppress a cry. It was there. It was staring. It was waiting.

Its image flashed in her mind again; a white face, no eyes to see or mouth. It's long neck with no hair...

She crawled to the side of the doorway and pressed herself against the wall. Rapidly breathing, she bit her lip harder than ever. More drops of warmth dribbled down her chin, falling to the floor with little thumps.

She peered over the edge with quivering lips and shaky hands. Her eyes were clenched tight, but she forced them open, revealing... nothing. It was gone.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stomped down on the floor. A short, muffled cry came from deep within her throat, though she quickly suppressed any others. Trembling, she stepped out into the open, making her way back down the stairs and into the light.

The thing was gone.

Wendy lunged for the door. Grasping the handle, she jiggled it. It didn't open.

"That's impossible," she whispered. Slowly, she went up to the symbol, staring at it with wide, watery eyes.

Thump!

With huge eyes she snapped to her left. The white thing was pressed against the window, staring at her with no eyes. It was dressed in a suit and tie, and from its back several black tendrils slithered about the mist.

Wendy screamed. She screamed and ran behind an armrest near her, huddling into herself and rocking back and forth. Her eye trained itself back to the window, only to find that it was gone in the mist once more.

Crawl. That's what she did - she crawled to the book laying on the table. She pushed herself up on her wobbling legs and reached out for the book. She managed to grip it just before she fell back to the floor.

From there she scampered to back of the room, as far away from the front door as possible. When she had her back to the wall, she dropped the book in her hands and quickly opened it, flying through the pages.

"No. No. No no no!" She slammed her back to the wall with a scowl. Flipping through more pages, she landed on one with a large picture in its center. Her eyes widened, and she bent down to get a better look.

It was a circle. A circle with an x.

"Barricader seal," she read aloud in a wavering voice. "Prevents any entrance or exit f-from target place... Dangerous..." Then she came upon the final paragraph. Her breathing stopped and her heart pounded harder than ever.

The mark of the Slender One. If seen at anytime, anywhere, it is most advisable for the person to-

She dropped the book and yelped as a loud THUMP! nearly deafed her. She covered her face with her arms and kicked in any direction. Her heart was on the verge of exploding, and she began to hyperventilate.

But when she looked out between her arms, she only noticed two things: that the light had gone from the room, and that there was a small message one the window in front of her. She slowly crossed the room and looked at the single word written on the window.

_**Run.**_

She gasped, looking around, frantically searching for an option.

Knock.

Her heart skipped a beat as she snapped up to face the door.

Knock. Another soft knock came from the door.

"G-Go away!" she cried, sinking down into the corner.

Knock.

"I said leave!" She slammed her foot down on the ground for emphasis.

And now, there was silence. There was nothing in the windows, the rune on the door did not light up, and there was no sound but her breathing in the room.

She rolled off the wall, barely standing up. Everything about her trembled, and her body screamed to collapse. But she tightened her muscles and kept herself up.

"Have to... get out..." she said between sobs and pants. With mechanical movements, she made her way to the door, one foot at a time.

Step by step, she inched closer to the door, cutting her way through the darkness with the occasional cry or gasp.

But she had to get out. She had to get help.

So she approached the door, coming to a full stop when she was face to face with the wooden thing. Her hand reached out, shaking hard. It pressed down on the knob, the bite of cold metal stinging her.

With a deep, deep breath, she twisted it, slowly pulling it towards her. The fog rolled in under the crack like a ghost, chilling her feet. She grimaced and bit her lip, letting another tear slowly roll down her cheek.

The door creaked as it swung open, letting the freezing night air in. Wendy closed her eyes, turned away, and hoped.

It was fully open, hitting the wall with a soft crash. Her eyes still closed, she turned her head to face the night breeze, taking in the cool feeling as it went through her clothes and bit into her skin.

Seconds passed. She could hear nothing; the outside seemed quiet, still, lifeless. She gave herself a small nod.

Then, she opened her eyes.

And there was nothing. Nothing but the mist. Nothing but the darkness.


	4. Isolation

Dipper opened his eyes, immediately discovering his vision to be completely engulfed by the pitch blackness that surrounded him. He glanced around in a vain attempt to find some light in the otherwise shadowy room, soon finding that not even a single ray of sunlight penetrated the darkness. His mind was quickly teeming with frantic questions, all of them asking similar things.

_Where am I? What happened? Who did this?_

But out of all his frenzied questions one stuck out in particular, _How do I get out?_

Dipper spun around and he was met with the same overwhelming darkness that flanked him. He couldn't make out anything; not a single object, wall or person. The worried child had no idea what was up or down, left or right, his sense of direction and place was now completely gone.

He reached out a limb into the darkness, his hand touching nothing but chilled air. He stretched another forearm, soon coming to the same conclusion as before. The young man's mind reeled at this new discovery as he hastily glanced around in the dark. _There has to be a way out! There just has to!_

Dipper moved forward, his earlier fear of what lay around him disappearing after a few steps. He had no idea where he was going, but assumed that anywhere was better than where he currently was. With heavy, fearful breathes he continued onward into the dark.

SLAM!

"Ow!" Dipper cursed as he fell backwards, very quickly realizing he had just walked into what must have been a wall. His hand searched around until it reached his face and he began massaging his now bruised cheek. After a few minutes of perverse silence he got to his feet. Wanting nothing but freedom, he hurried in another direction, reaching a similar wall within just a few steps.

_Wh-what? I-I think I'm trapped in here! But there's got to be a way out!_ His thoughts now turning worried and frantic as he dashed in another direction, quickly tripping over a clutter of unknown objects. A loud bang and the falling of more items resonated around him, and he now merely lay on the cold floor. He was surrounded on all sides with no way out, simply left to bask in the horrifying dark.

It was dead quiet, not a single sound or noise reaching his ears as he rested on the ground. The silence was nothing like he had ever experienced, as living in California had got him so accustomed to the constant noise of the city. Even in the much smaller Gravity Falls there was noise, whether it be the footsteps of busy pepole or the singing of merry birds.

There was none of that; no people talking, no animals running about, no noise whatsoever. The only thing Dipper heard now was the every growing sound of his heartbeat, beating in a rhythmic pattern that seemed to invade his thoughts.

**_Thump thump_**

_What do I do?_

It seemed like an eternity since he had been here, his usually perfect perception of time now all but gone. There were no hours, minutes or seconds to count, to keep track of… There was only the numbing darkness around here, and the constant, now deafening sound of his own heart.

**_Thump thump_**

_There's nothing to do now… Nowhere to go, no way out… I guess I just need to wait here until something happens…_

**_Thump thump_**

_Why me? What kind of cruel person could do this to someone?_

**_Thump thump_**

It was still rising, gaining strength and sound with every beat until it assaulted his ears like a fifty piece orchestra. He fruitless clawed at his ears, trying to make the sound, the only sound, stop.

**_Thump thump_**

He couldn't think anymore, the noise was invading his very mind and drowning out all his previous thoughts and concerns.

_**Thump thump**_

There was nothing he could do now but writher around the ground like a pathetic worm, desperately pleading with whatever god or goddess there was to make it stop.

**_Thump thump_**

It was pure torture, not even being able to think as the rhythmic beating eroded his sanity. All he knew was the sound; the pounding of his cardiac organ as his atrioventricular values closed soon followed by the closing of his semilunar values. The complicated biological process of pumping blood through the heart resulted in the simple sound that was now consuming his world.

**_Thump thump_**

Driven insane by the sound, Dipper had now simply reverted to weak cries and the cradling of his body. He was whispering hastily, incoherent gibberish that even he didn't understand. Still, as the darkness and silence surrounded him, he was relentless tormented by the beating. It refused to stop, showing no mercy or remorse as it continued, somehow still growing in sound.

**_Thump thump_**

Only one thought shot through the insane beating, a simple frenzied desire to end it.

_Hark! Louder!_

_**Thump thump**_

_Louder! Louder!_

**_Thump thump_**

**_LOUDER!_**

**_Thump thump_**

He had forgotten his own name now. There were no memories, no pictures, and no thoughts that raced through his vacant mind. He simply… was. All he knew was the beating.

**_Thump thump_**

There was no Dipper Pines. He had forgotten about his love for reading, he had forgotten that books even existed. The memories of his friends and even his own sibling had all but disappeared, the names of them leaving even before he forgot his own.

**_Thump thump_**

He cried, not knowing who he was, where he was or even what he was doing. The sound was maddening; it had taken the strong willed individual known as Dipper Pines and had reduced it to nothing but a muttering, weeping maniac. Cut off from the whole world, left only with the sound of his own heart.

**_Thump thump_**

Light flooded into the room, instantly blinding Dipper and snapping him out of his crazy trance. His head shot up hopefully, hardly believing what was currently transpiring.

"Dipper? Dude, what are you doing in the closet?"

It took the young boy a moment to realize that the tall, plaid shirted girl standing in the doorway was addressing him. It took him even longer to realize the tall, plaid clad girl standing in the doorway was in fact his friend, Wendy Corduroy.

"Wendy?! Oh my God, I can't thank you enough for saving me!" Memories, thoughts and his personality all came flooding back to him as he collapsed in front of her, weeping uncontrollably.

"Uh…" Wendy gave him a mixed look of confusion and concern. "Are you alright, dude?"

Dipper quickly stopped his crying and looked up at his friend with a smile, "I am now, thanks to you."

"All I did was open the closet!"

"Wait, what?" Dipper turned around, soon finding that the prison that he had spent an eternity in was in fact a closet in the Mystery Shack. A large pile of books was strewn across the wooden floor, no doubt the hidden objects he had knocked over during his frantic attempts at escape.

His jaw fell open; hardly believing the torture he had experienced was the cause of a simple closet. "Bu-but…" He was at a loss for words as his mind trailed off, peeling back previous memories in an attempt to find how he ended up in the small storage room. After a minute it came back to him.

Stan had just sent Mabel out on an errand while he worked on his frantic research in trying to unlock the laptop he had found a few days before, when he, Wendy, Mabel and Soos had gone into a strange bunker hidden underground. Upon realizing that none of his books held the required research, he headed for the closet.

With his one book held in front of his face trying to find something of value in its pages, he paced towards the closet on the ground floor. Due to his absorbed reading he failed to notice the large puddle of water Mabel had spilled earlier, and because of her getting distracted soon after, she simply left it to dry. He slipped on the puddle just as he opened the door, instantly dropping his book and rolling into the dark closet. The blow to the floor must have been enough to knock him out temporarily, and the wind from a nearby open window must have closed the door shut behind him.

Dipper facepalmed as he came to fully realize the situation. He had locked himself in a closet. _Smooth move Pines…_

"I guess I might have well…" Dipper mumbled as he spoke, his beat red cheeks showing off his embarrassment to the young girl standing before him.

"Don't tell me, you locked yourself in a closet?! Bwhahahahaha!" Wendy instantly broke out into a fit of laughter, her tall frame collapsing to the floor as she rolled around in mirth. Her laughs eventually died down, and after wiping away a few tears she looked up at Dipper with a grin.

"It's not funny…" He hissed, soon giving her an upset scowl. "And hey, what took so long? I was in there for what must have been days!"

"Days? Dude, you were only gone for like ten minutes! I heard a door slam down here and when I went to check, no one was here."

Dipper once again facepalmed. This was definitely one incident that he wasn't going to anyone about...


	5. Island Song

"Hasta luego, butthead!"

"Bye Mabel."

The door closer to the twins room. Dipper remained on his bed, chewing on the safe end of a pen as he stared into his paper before him. Mabel and Soos may be excited to go to a textiles and antiques show, but Dipper would be sitting this one out. He had work to do after all.

Not to imply he would have preferred to stay inside. It was a gorgeous day; the sun was out, a breeze drifted through the open window, and the calls of birds invited Dipper to spend his time outside. All his youthful instincts cried out to accept the invitation. However, the disappearance of his sister provided a unique opportunity- to get some progress on his summer math assignment uninterrupted.

"Twelve point six times eight..." Dipper whispered to himself, chewing on the pen. Math was his forte, and he quickly scribbled down the answer with a grin, "one hundred point eight. Oh, here we go," Dipper groaned as he turned the page, having finished the last problem of the simple 'easy' section. Unlabeled angles, blank shapes, all manner of geometry flashed itself before his eyes.

With a huff, he bent closer, staring into the first problem. _Solve for X._

"If this is a... uh, obtuse triangle," Dipper looked to the shape, "and this angle is thirty three, and that is fifty five... that would make that ninety two? That sounds right," Dipper bit onto the pen a tad too hard, and the end cap sprung out, hitting his eye. "OW! Gah!"

As he rubbed his assaulted face, he heard the wheels of Grunkle Stan's car speed off. While Soos could certainly watch for Mabel on his own, Grunkle Stan was more interested in collecting a few oddities from the antiques for his re-purposing. More displays for the unwary visitor of the Mystery Shack.

Dipper tossed away the bent pen and reached for another, looking outisde. It was very, very tempting to just take a journey through the woods. Maybe he'd find some speaking mushrooms today, or color-moss that changes colors based on how nicely you treat it.

"Just get it done, and maybe later," Dipper sighed, and grabbed the next pen.

Something floated to the young boy in the air. It was shocking at first, like his senses had never encountered it before. Alien, but beautiful, this sound emanated from underneath the floor, a muffled beauty that Dipper could not resist. Homework could wait.

Gently landing off the bed, he started for the door. As soon as he opened it, he realized it was music. A gentle strum of some type of instrument tempted Dipper down the stairs, and he obeyed as if he were in a trance.

_"Come along with me,"_ a voice asked the world around it, and Dipper quietly stepped down the stairs, daring not to make a noise or interrupt this song,_ "To a town beside the sea..."_

_"We can wander through the forest,"_ the song continued as Dipper made it to the landing, and turned the corner,_ "and do so as we please."_

There it was; there she was. The answer to the blissful, peaceful, heart calming breath of merriment that was Dipper's crush- Wendy Corduroy. Long red hair dangling behind her back, a green flannel shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and her trademark lumberjack hat- she was the epitome of laid back, Oregon style. Today, she was joined by a new entity- a tiny stringed thing, rounder and less attention seeking than the standard guitar.

_"Come along with me... to a cliff under a tree,"_ Wendy sang as she looked out the screen door from her post, her legs propped up on the countertop by the cash register, _"where we'll gaze upon the water... as an everlasting dream."_

"Wow," Dipper slipped audibly, loud enough to be heard over the plucks and pulls of the strings. Wendy yelped and flicked her gaze towards him.

"Dipper!" Wendy gasped, putting down the tiny stringed thing and lowering her feet, "aw man, you startled me. I thought everyone had left but me."

"You sing?" Dipper managed to ask, feeling slightly breathless still.

"Ah, well, I mean," Wendy shrugged, adjusting her hat and fluffing her hair behind her, "not really. I just sort of mess around sometimes."

"That sounded amazing!" Dipper walked over, mouth agape still. He had no idea Wendy could have such a fantastic voice.

"Nah, you're just saying that, dude," Wendy grinned at him, and shaking her head, "being nice to the girl with no talent."

"No talent? Are you kidding me!? I know people in my school who wish they had that kind of voice!" Dipper blurted out, "that was just awesome!"

"Wow dude. That's some high praise."

"I guess," Dipper came to looked at the instrument, staring at its small, petite features, "so what is that, exactly? It looks like a small acoustic guitar."

"It's a ukulele," Wendy grinned, holding it out for this inspection.

"A whaaat?"

Wendy chuckled, probably having expected that exact response. "A Ukulele. It's a small little guitar that anyone can get to make music with. They sound all tropical and Hawaiian, don't they?"

"I... yeah," Dipper nodded, "and you can play it?"

"Unless there's another girl in here with long red hair and who goes by my name, it was totally me man," Wendy told him, confirming her as the culprit.

"Wow. Just... wow. I didn't know you played an instrument," Dipper admitted, leaning closer on the counter, poking the ukulele.

"I don't try to brag about it," Wendy shrugged, looking unenthused about showing any skill off, "as soon as someone has an expectation, they just criticize you for not meeting their own. So I just keep it to myself."

"But you're really good," Dipper implored her, "Man, instead of bragging his guitar, Robbie should have been taking lessons from you."

Wendy roared with laughter, and Dipper laughed a bit long the way. There was an internal mental celebration he made her laugh so hard, it forced his lips to smile wider than he usually was comfortable with. He made her happy; what else could be better in the world to smile for?

"Dude, nice one," Wendy wiped away a small tear from her eyes, "he wasn't bad though, honestly."

"Not bad doesn't compare to you!" Dipper exclaimed, "I thought I was going to come downstairs and find some angel or something singing in here!"

"Man," Wendy rolled her eyes and leaned back, "now you're just trying to be sweet. C'mon dude, I'm not that good."

"But... I really liked it," Dipper admitted, slightly crestfallen at her misunderstanding to his sincerity. Her eyes studied his downing attitude. Something about that look he adopted made her smile, and she reached over to the wooden instrument.

"Ahem," she loudly cleared his throat, "now... where was I?"

"Huh?"

"Right," Wendy nodded to herself, and brushed her fingers against the right cords, _"All of my affections... I give them all to you. Maybe by next summer... we won't have changed out tune."_

Sirens calls couldn't compare to her voice. Not to Dipper pines, officially put under a spell that was the beautiful voice of Wendy Corduroy. He couldn't look away, he couldn't think about anything else- his whole world hinged on the next words that would come out of her mouth, calm and kind and harmoniously wonderful. She wasn't just singing a song, she was singing to him. Singing and strumming perfectly in rhythm and pitch and...

Only to him.

_"And we'll still want to be... In this town beside the sea; making up new numbers, and living so merrily."_

The world was surely melting around Dipper. Everything was so heavy, and yet so light and soft and perfectly at east. A car could strike him, and Dipper knew it would just become marshmellow and flow into streams past him. This would be what heaven sounded like. Except they would be alone, and maybe he could sing with her.

Nah, maybe not. His singing voice was cruddy.

_"All of my affections, I'll share them all with you... I'll be here for your always, and always be for you,"_ Wendy sang, rocking her head back and forth a bit, like a gentle swaying tree filled with beautiful red flowers. _"Come along with me... to this town beside the sea... We can wander through the forest And do so as we please... living so merrily."_

With a final caress of the strings, her song finished. The effects did not immediately wane on Dipper, who's unfocused eyes dazed into space, letting the soaring feeling in his stomach settle. Then he blinked.

"See? I'm only 'eh'," Wendy shrugged, and lowered the instrument.

"Only 'eh'? Oh my god," Dipper gasped, "I don't even know how you can say that about yourself! You're putting me under a trance it was so good!"

"...You really mean that, don't you?" Wendy dropped her usual calm smile, staring at the boy with curiosity, "like, I'm good?"

"Wendy, I wish I knew agents. Because I'd send them flocking to you. Just- WOW!" Dipper yelled suddenly, accidentally bursting out that excitement that his heart fluttered with. Wendy flinched, but laughed as Dipper laughed with her, rubbing the back of his neck, "ah, sorry about that."

"It's okay dude. I... I don't know, I don't play in front of other people," Wendy admitted, "and all I hear is other people using these, so... I dunno dude."

"Is there a talent show in Gravity Falls? Can you go perform in it so I don't loose my mind knowing you are just full of talent and no one else knows?!" Dipper demanded of her, dramatically clutching the sides of the counter, making the redhead splutter with laughter again.

"First chance I get, I'll sign one up and tell you," Wendy told him, "but only if you show up buddy."

A rose must have shot straight out from Dipper's heart. A wonderful sharp jolt that felt as amazing as the first time Dipper had pizza, or got a question in class right on the first try, or the first time he really looked at Wendy. She wanted him there.

"Y-you know I'll be!" Dipper stammered and nodded. She grinned and leaned back, the tiniest of color in her cheeks. "Hey," Dipper asked out loud, "why don't you play for people? It's not like you have no friends or anything."

"Eh... I guess I just needed someone who I knew wouldn't judge a girl for using a lame little toy guitar," Wendy looked to him, her smile warming his heart.

"I couldn't- I wouldn't- who would-"

"Dipper, chill. It's just a girl's insecurities," Wendy snorted when Dipper looked ready to punch some lame loser for judging Wendy for anything other than being totally awesome.

"Oh, right, sorry," Dipper apologized, "you know, I wouldn't mind being your test subject."

"Nah, man, I come up with some stupid stuff," Wendy shook her head.

"I wouldn't mind," Dipper re-stated. The red head gave him another trying stare, trying to peel away any disingenuous intent. She couldn't find any, as there was none.

"I'll pull you aside if I think of something, okay dude?" Wendy asked, putting her ukulele away into her sack.

"Awesome! I mean, cool, yeah, that'll be really neat," Dipper nodded, his poor attempt at cool played very terribly. Then he remembered- he hadn't heard the song before. "Wendy, did you make that song up?"

"What? No man. I heard it from... from..." Wendy puzzled, looking around the shack, maybe hoping for a reminder to the source, "huh... I don't remember. Must have been a friend or something."

"Oh... well, it was really cool."

"Thanks bud," Wendy smiled back. "You know, you can chill down here if you'd like."

"Aww... I want to, but I should get my math homework done. Mabel will want to copy it, and if I leave it out, she'll put cat stickers all over it again," Dipper said with a grumble of regret. "But seriously, I want to hear more."

"I'll let you know," Wendy said, and then she winked.

"Hahaha," Dipper's voice rose three octaves higher, and he nodded as he retreated, heading back for the stairs, "okay, talk to you later Wendy!"

Dipper almost missed the first step. It was impossible to walk straight or think straight. How could anything in the world be so perfect?

Wendy wanted to sing in front of him again?

He had it. Dipper had something, something more close than a horror movie night with her every other day, or going on an adventure with her and Soos and Mabel. He hard her music. Her beautiful music.

"She won't sing unless she trusts them," Dipper bubbled with excitement as he closed the door behind him. "She trust me!"

Forget the bed, forget the homework. What else in the world was there but this moment? Dipper ran over to the window, and shoved the glass open, hanging his arms on the edge. The birds now just sounded stale and unenthusiastic. Maybe it was a curse, to know nothing would probably ever compare to that sound.

"She trusts me," Dipper sighed so deep he may have emptied his entire body's weight in air.

And it was such a beautiful day.

* * *

_Hi folks, this is EZB- humble writer of The Return to Gravity Falls and The Hellsing War Chronicles. I had the great opportunity to write this little chapter by request from the talented and awesome TheEquestrianidiot 2.0, who for some reason thinks I'm worth asking to write anything. I don't know what he's on, but I'm grateful. :)_

_ Remember folks, review his work, because damn it's great! And I'll see you guys next- (A box weighing a metric ton falls on EZB and crushes, filled to the brim with 'fluffy feels')_

_TEi: Dude? Dude? Eh, I'm sure he'll be fine. Hope you guys enjoyed!_


	6. EZB's The Knock

_Once again, many, many, many, many, MANY, thanks to EZB for letting me post this piece of pure awesomenistic, unholy terror. Serioulsy this bit had me looking over my shoulder. If you haven't read any of his stuffs yet, go do it. The man is a genius._

* * *

It was laughable.

The Apocalypse.

Certainly not a joke though; it was incredibly serious. The many religions and cultures of the world had predicted their own version of the end. From slowly ascending into heavy while evil-doers fell into hell, or a great tide washing over the land forever, or a great frost encasing the planet forever: the end was predicted.

How it came was simple, laughable, and only one person in the world saw it happen. Watched the entire population of every intelligent being vanished forever.

It had happened seven years ago. Had there been governments left to spread the word, they would have found that a portal based experiment in a privately owned illegal laboratory had run astray. It had meant to bring one person with that level of intelligence from another place in the universe back to this end of the portal.

To put it simply- it backfired.

Disorder fell quickly, but there was really no one to watch it.

No one saw the great skyscrapers rust and glass shatter.

No one witnessed the nuclear reactors leaking radiation into huge areas, killing helpless animals trapped in its deadly trail.

No one experienced the horrible, all encompassing knowledge that you were the absolute last person on planet Earth or beyond.

But for one person.

Gravity Falls, like all remnants of human life, was falling apart. Most of the log cabins had begun to have plant life coverer its entirety, or stray animals to take refuge inside. The few more sturdy buildings showed signs of repair and maintenance. Surprising considering every single person ever once qualified for their jobs was gone.

That didn't stop him from trying though.

It was mid January. Terrible cold had just hit it's lowest point. Of the remaining intact structures, The Mystery Shack was the most intact, almost the same as the day it was left stranded to one twelve year old boy. The snow was deep and heavy, covering all but the most secluded areas of shelter. Should the storm raging around the shack have faded, a passing bear may have noticed an empty pen for animals to its side, and a large log-cabin styled barn.

The wind raged against the trees, who shouted back with their aged creaks of wear and bending. They drowned out the coming successive sounds of oncoming feet.

Stomp, stomp. Stomp, stomp. Stomp, stomp.

Something of an outline emerged from the wind. Covered in white sheets and a bright grey plush jacket, the man emerged, carrying a large travel backpack loaded with supplies. This weary traveler had just returned from a long hike, but a successful one.

Large, heavy boots crushed more snow. Stomp, stomp.

Dangling next to this man's belt was a well loved axe. A hatchet large enough to cleave wood or to be used in self-defense, it rested lovingly against his hip, bouncing slightly in his wake. Dark goggles concealed the man's face, along with a scarf wrapped not only around his neck, but his jaw and up his nose. The biting wind would not be kind to any exposed skin, and this traveler was well prepared. Painted white and faint dots of blue was a hunters crossbow, loaded and accompanied with a quiver to its side.

Adjusting his gloves as he passed a figure to his right, he paused. A snowman, easily his own height waved a frozen stick arm above his lumpy, spherical head. A brown cap had been placed atop its head, crowning it a former worker of the building behind it.

"Afternoon, Soos."

The figure was quick with his passing by greeting. He did not stop to exchange any other words. Just a hello. It was all he could do. He had tried talking to his snowmen before, in the mad hopes they would talk back. He had never been granted that luck.

Stomp, stomp. Stomp, clunk.

To his relief and with a great sigh, he reached the half snow-buried that belonged to him. The lights were all off, just like he intended. With a pat for keys in his pockets, the man retrieved the small metal object, and slid it into its counterpart, the doors lock. Twist, turn, push- the front door slid open.

The enclosing darkness did not frighten him: even though windows did present themselves to an outside viewer, the inhabitant had long ago boarded up the ports inside, having experienced hungry animals gazing at him in the middle of night. Nightmares were harmless, night predators were not. Precaution always won over pleasantry. No natural light befell the first floor of the building.

Which was fine. He lived on the second floor anyway.

He slammed the door shut behind him, and locked it. Down he placed his backpack, heavy and burdened with loot. His clothing began to drop with the melting snow, and each article of clothing he removed was placed neatly on a metal wrack above a waiting clean towel. First came the gloves, revealing scarred, worn hands.

Then came the scarves, revealing a moderate nose, red from the cold and a touch stuffy. A small scar ran across the lips as they too became revealed to the world. Then the hood was dropped as the jacket was removed. Curly brown hair prodded the quiet breeze above it. He dropped the crossbow roped around his shoulder and quiver by the door. Last to leave the outdoor garb was the jacket, and there revealed a holster concealing not one, not two, but three pistols.

Never to kill, no. A pistol against the wildlife here, unless used against something small enough where he could wrangle it with his own hands, would just piss off the animal. No, these were his warning shots. Bears hated the sound, and would scatter quickly if he were quick about it. Wolves too- animals were skittish, and pistols were loud enough, and he had plenty enough ammo to do the job and be consistent about it.

The glasses came off, and brown eyes peered around. Nothing had changed. Thank goodness.

"I'm home!" Dipper shouted into the dark building. It was a joke, of course. Something, like Soos the snowman, to keep in on the fringes of sanity. In reality, it was a check if something had moved into his home while he was away.

He listened intently.

The wind was happy to reply from the outdoors, pushing and moaning against the boarded up windows and reinforced door behind him, but nothing replied from inside.

Dipper Pines sniffed the warmer air inside as he felt his mildly damp socks seep into the wooden floor below him. Had he gone back in time seven years, this would have been a gift shop, presenting ridiculous merchandise to the tourist, who easily would have paid obscene prices to obtain the goods. Now it was just a memory. Like every other room, aside from the kitchen and the bedroom.

No. The Bedroom was worse.

Yet he stayed there more often times than anywhere else in the winter. It tortured him. Absolutely tortured him. He could almost hear her voice when he was up there.

He lifted his backpack back onto his shoulders, sufficiently widened since his days as a boy and toned well from his labor. He trudged through the empty room and headed up the stairs.

Clump, creak. Clump, creak.

Dipper landed the top of the stairs and turned to his room. The room. It was also reinforced, like the two working door downstairs, by the back and by the front, in case something large would find its way inside. With a good push, he shoved the door open.

There was only one bed now. The attic room was entirely changed since the days seven years ago when he had someone to share the space with.

At first he had desire to keep it the same, as a memory. A token that there had been once someone there with him. In the end that just drove him mad.

Now a bed once belonging to a curmudgeonly old con had been worked inside, and the smaller beds shoved into the storage room next door. There was a large desk next to his bed, along with candles and an old oil lamp. He never used the oil lamp, not unless he had absolutely no choice. Once a cougar had gotten nearby the pig pen- he had responded when Waddles was squealing for help deep into the night.

One well placed solid slug from a hunting shotgun and Dipper had a full cougar pelt and a few other neat parts. Waddles deeply appreciated it. The pelt was lying on his bed, along with a few other furs and coats along with what few linens still weren't adorned with a trillion holes.

Dipper dropped his backpack roughly on the bed, and evenly opened the zipper.

His newest library exchange had gone well. He traded a few texts on plant biology and some teen paranormal novels for the classics; Mary Shelly's Frankenstein, Bram Stokers Dracula, and Aristotle's Poetics.

"Maybe the second read you'll have even more eye opening fun stuff," Dipper mumbled as he ran his finger over the spin of the Poetics.

Then he began to empty the other books. The library had a leaking problem. Some shelves were spared from the drip of death that would allow the paper books to rot within a week few days to a week, but when Dipper had arrived earlier that day, oh no. Six entire shelves had been covered in water. These were all that he could save.

He needed to keep active. Certainly watching over a farm of pigs, goats, two old cows, and a fox that liked to pop in every now and again to bother the piglets was all hard enough, but staying in this building too long was a death sentence.

Dipper had invented schedules. Anything to give his mind something else to consider. He would, every three days, go down to the town and check up on a crucial building. Armed with his crossbow and guns, he would scour the building for wildlife, and then check its needs. Since plumbing was no longer a factor, all he had to check was structural integrity.

Being forced to watch over a crumbling wooden shack for seven years straight made Dipper quick at repairs, and better an solving them.

The window next to his bed was covered in snow, but he could sense the closing day. Night was approaching quickly. The animals would be fine. Their barn was better suited than his room for heat- but he needed them alive more than he needed to be comfortable.

He closed his door and locked it.

Turning back to his bed, he slowly undid his holster, and gently dropped them by the chair resting inside his desk under-chamber. Placing them there gave view to the larger weapon by his bed- the shotgun. Loaded and always with the safety off, Dipper only grasped it if he knew he needed something dead.

No compromise with the shotgun.

Looking away from the weapon of death, he looked to the angled wall that formed a ceiling with a perpendicular wall on his bed's side. He had created a large pin and string map of the area around Gravity Falls, and places of interest.

Monsters had not left with the portal gone awry- only those with the intelligence comparable of humans.

Giant spiders, man-eating trees, strange crystals; all these things were marked on the wall for him to remember. He didn't really need the maps reminder. He had traversed these woods so much it didn't matter- blindfolded he wouldn't hit a branch or trip on a root.

It was dark now. The light had left him.

Reaching inside his desk, he flicked a match and lit the two candles on the desk. His mind desire to re-read the story of a madman who had wished to defy nature and god and breathe new life into death.

The book was set on the desk with a heavy clunk. Dipper snorted when he spotted several annotations someone had dared to write on the underside of the cover. He turned the page to the first chapter, and grinned, ready to read into this gruesome tale before bed.

Knock, knock.

Dipper blinked.

He turned around to his guns. Had they just hit the floor? No, as he saw them, they still hang behind him, off the chair suspended into the air.

"What the fuck?" Dipper said to himself.

It hadn't been a random stumble. He knew that sound. That was something that sound have been impossible to hear. A steady, successive rapping against wood somewhere.

Could he have imagined it? Dipper looked to the book before him. Frankenstein was about science, and heartbeats. Maybe his mind just screwed with him for a second.

"Okay, not a night for horror," Dipper decided, and quickly put away Frankenstein. "Aristotle, come here tough guy-"

Knock, Knock.

"Oh, holy shit."

Dipper stood from his chair quickly, almost toppling it over.

That was someone knocking on the door. Downstairs.

On his door.

He grasped the holsters and slung them around his arms, clicking them into place with themselves. Then he whipped to his desk and blew out the lights in a hurry. He could see in the dark fine by now. Creeping with a cats grace, he snuck over to his door, and put an ear against the side.

Knock, knock.

No, he had been wrong. It wasn't his door, it was downstairs. The front door.

"No. Fucking impossible," Dipper mouthed to himself.

Safety above everything else. He needed to stay inside, where he was certain nothing could get to him. He was protected behind two well barred doors and a set of stairs. He was fine.

Then again, there shouldn't have been anything in the rest of the world that would know how to knock. Let alone twice on three separate occasions. Damn it, he was scared, but he needed to know.

Knock, knock.

Dipper swallowed, and slowly pushed the door open. He could hear the faint echoes of the wind against the higher windows on his level. The devouring darkness concealed his exit of his room as he crept towards the staircase.

The lone human slid down the stairs, taking extra percussion to avoid noise. He wanted answers, but not to be discovered. What if this was a monster come walking to his front door, and was just smacking its thick skull against his door?

No, that didn't sit right. Dipper turned his head around the wall. There, across the room was his door. Alone. Next to his winter travel gear, long since having dripped their last bits of cold water.

Knock, knock.

Dipper didn't just hear that. He felt it. It was a solid, confident knock. They knew what they were doing, whatever they were. It was impossible, after all, that a human being was on the other side of that door. Dipper knew that. Every fiber of his being knew there was no one on the other side.

Then what in the holy fuck was outside his door, knocking away?

Knock, knock.

Dipper shook as he took a trembling step closer. He was in the middle of the empty room, and stared directly at the door.

Knock, Knock.

"W-who's there?" Dipper demanded.

No answer. No breathing. No sniffing. No outcry. No nothing.

"What the fuck," Dipper swore to himself, "am I going through an episode again? Shit."

This wouldn't have been the first time. Being in total solitude was something to try with his mind. He had hit several rock-bottoms in his head, and more than once contemplated his own ending by means of a gunshot. He must have just heard it inside his head.

"Damn. Going crazy already in this years-"

**Knock, knock.**

Dipper yelled and fell back. The force behind the last pair was strong enough to bend the door back slightly. He scrambled for his pistol, stuck in the fabric.

**Knock, knock.**

"I'm armed!" Dipper shouted, his pistol out as he lay on the floor, staring at the door with terror, "Who are you? Announce yourself!"

**Knock, knock.**

"I said I'm armed!" Dipper shouted.

**Knock, knock.**

"That means stop!" Dipper screamed, holding his shaking hand up, ready to empty his clip should the next knock break the hinges down.

**Knock, knock.**

"STOP IT!"

**Knock, knock.**

"GO AWAY!" Dipper begged, tears forming in his eyes. "PLEASE! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

**Knock, knock.**

Dipper held his other hand to his ear, desperate to shove out the constant pounding on his front door. No longer was he ready to fight for his life. He was trapped. Trapped in his own last standing, his back on the floor with a shaking gun up to a terror indescribable safe for the sound it made against his door.

It was no longer a pair of knocks. It was endless, a never ceasing punching of the door, shaking the walls and almost bending the wooden reinforced door backwards. This was a nightmare, an absolute terror. A monster of fear must have found Dipper in his moment of weakness, and now preyed off his emotions, ready for the feast to come.

Dipper felt his hand go limp. His heart was racing too fast. He didn't even register the sounds of the door being bashed away. He was certain death had come for him. Death itself was here to collect the last, rare human being. It was seven years late, after all.

The pistol fell to his side with his hand, and he laid back, tears falling past his eyes.

**Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock-**

Maybe there would be a heaven.

**Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock,-**

If there was, his family and friends were waiting for him.

**Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock,-**

Dipper felt his tear stained cheeks grow cold, and he closed his eyes.

It could have been the instant he closed his eyes- he didn't know. All Dipper knew is that suddenly the world went quiet. Dipper gasped. It was gone. The horrible sound was gone. And so was the darkness of night.

It was morning. The snow storm had ceased. He lay, cold as ever he had felt, almost numb to his sense as he scrambled to feet. The door before him was still closed, and intact.

Not taking a chance, he raised his gun, and made to unlock the door. Slowly he turned the key, and then opened the front door to his home. A brisk cold wind blew past him, as the suns rays told him morning had come.

He swallowed his dry, cold throat, and looked around. No foot prints. No animal droppings. No sign of any kind of activity.

A dream.

It was a dream. Easily the worst life-like nightmare he had ever had. He had sleepwalked through all of it. He made to go back inside, and...

... and he noticed the front door. One of the wooden beams that crossed it, making it reinforced. Dipper knew very well the shape and form of his building. Almost every single nook, cranny and corner was memorized, like his books.

He knew that this beam never had a solid dent in it before. The size of a human fist.


	7. XxSkullCandyxX's Within the Woods

Dipper Pines strode through the empty forest the moon shinning brightly, without a cloud in the sky, providing a good source of light which the young detective lacked. In his hands, the Number Three Journal was open to a page Dipper was currently reading, trying to find something to spark his interest. Reading throughout the pages, he stumbled on a log that caught his foot as he walked, not paying attention.

He tumbled to the ground as the journal flipped open and landed a few feet away from him. Looking around to see if there wasn't any sign of someone or something, he stood up and weird the remaining dirt off him.

"Man, I really need to watch where I'm going," Dipper said to himself as he walk to his book and grabbed it off the ground to see if there was dirt on it. "Lucky your still in good shape."

As he look at the book, he saw a picture- a coal mine was scribbled onto the page he was reading. He look around to see his destination, as there was a coal mine in before of him

.  
"There it is," whispered Dipper in delight. "The mine I was looking for." Dipper looked down to the pages. It had been one of those times when boredom took over curiosity, and he spotted this particular page. The coal mine was rather ambiguous in its report in the journal, but a little research had proven that this place had a darker past- many reports of missing lumberjacks and hikers were dotted over the years involving this spit of land. Something definitely worth looking into.

He pulled out his flashlight he carried in his blue vest and with a push of his thumb turned it on, curious to look in the darkness of the mine. Entering the mine, broken wooden boards leaned on the walls and on the floor, safety helmets with small broken lamps tied to the center lay scattered about, metal carriages and pickaxes tossed aside. Dipper stared in awe as he took in the sights. He had never been in a mine before, so this might just be one of the coolest things he'd ever done.

Well, nearly coolest. There was that one time when he and Mabel... but then again... ah, who was he kidding, mines are awesome.

As he searched, he stumbled across a wooden box that lay in the middle of the ground. U like the other rotting wooden constructs laying around him, this box seemed... new.

Curiosity peaked, he picked up the box and opened it with the light of the flashlight shining inside. In the light, he found an old black and white photo that portrayed a group of at least thirty children under 12 and a man on his 30's. The children were wearing 1900's coal mine clothing while the man was wearing a business suit that matched the times.

Dipper continued to look through the box and found a stick of a dynamite. Dipper noticed the imprinted "CAUTION: EXPLOSIVE" on the side and he put it in his vest in case of a emergency. After all, you never knew when a stick of dynamite would be needed.

He continue looking for more items, but the last thing he found was only three sheets of paper written in ink. Dipper place the opened box on the ground and he used his flashlight to read the first written paper.

_March 9th, 1906_

_ Gravity Falls Mining Incorporation_

_I have worked in this mine for so long, and yet I still need to work hard or else I shall lose my job, and I won't be able to help my family. We haven't been educated for much time and we're still working in the wholes, expecting to be able to carry these heavy sacks and push those carts. I don't know why we have to work- we're just children. This is a burden, like my father would tell me. But we're the only hope to get money for food and survival. I only wish we could do something else. These days down under the earth are killing us._

_ Signed, Matthew Charles_

Dipper read it again. He had heard once or twice that children had to work in mines like this before, or in factories. But those were much earlier than the end of the nineteenth century. He tried imaging himself, pushing one of those carts next to him. Laden with tools, he doubted he could make it budge at first. Yet some of those kids were younger than him. He felt a pang of sorrow for the children who had to endure these hardships, laboring through the days and possibly nights if the foreman was that mean.

"I'm sorry you have to go through that," said Dipper in sorrow. "I wish someone would have stopped it."

He moved on to the next letter he found from the box. It was address by the same person.

_March 11th, 1906_

_ Gravity Falls Mining Incorporation_

_Samantha Smith just died yesterday. It was horrible. I thought it was bad enough, the way he treats us, but the sir has no love in his heart, surely. Sammy was doing her best, hauling the cargo onto the carriage, and then the boss just pushed her to the floor and to beat her for no reason! Everybody want to do something to stop it, but we were to afraid to face our boss. The best thing we could, was just forget what happened and continue working. I feel I will be cursed, like the rest of us. We are living in this place day after day. I'm so sorry for Sammy._

_Matthew Charles_

"What?" Dipper gasped, taking off his hat. He was in shock and ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn't believe something so tragic and horrible could happen to such young kids!

"That heartless bastard! Who'd hurt a little girl for no reason?!" whispered Dipper in anger. Bitterly, he then turned to the third and final letter. His eyes scanned the letter first, and then something washed away that anger, that righteous fury.

Fear.

He spotted words dotted into the letter that stood out- Kill. Pain. Body. Uprise.

Dipper then finally swallowed away the fear and read.

_March 12th, 1906_

_ Gravity Falls Mines Incorporation_

_ We can no longer bare this pain. I've seen this happening to the other kids- we're fed up now. Just before I started writing this, all of us, the kids and I, have made a agreement to blow this place apart. We're going to kill the boss. The children got pickaxes hidden and I got dynamite stowed away to give the boss a run for his money. We are too tired to take any more pain. We need to fight back and send a message to other coal mines who have children working for their business. I don't care what happens to me. No one should live like this. No one should die like this._

_God save us all, _

_Matthew Charles_

Dipper slowly looked up. There had been a mutiny. A mutiny of children and this Mathew Charles against one brutal and mean spirited man. The world around Dipper took a new appearance as he looked around. The broken mine carts, and splintered tools, even the paths that lead deeper, further down- it all was stained with the pasts blood.

Dipper started to stand, his feet scraping against the coal. He heard it echo gently around him. The echoing didn't stop.

Dipper spun around. There was movement. Something was moving in the shadows. He spun around, casting his flashlight ahead. He saw a black spray of pebbles get tossed into the air. Something was running around him. His fingers dropped the box as his feet as he turned about.

That was enough exploring for one day. Dipper spun around, and started for the exit. His running feet came to a halt. His eyes widened- he couldn't be seeing what was before him. Illuminated by the light of his flashlight, was a girl. She wore old, 1900's clothes. Her brown hair was dotted with coal stain and dirt. She had pure black eyes that absorbed all the light he cast to her, and she had the height and age of Dipper. Her skin color was grey as she smile and giggle at Dipper. As he shoulder shook, several bits of dirt and rubble fell from her clothing, as if she had been buried.

"Hello."

Dipper stared back, stunned and in a torrent of fear. She was between his way out, and he had the feeling this wasn't a local girl from town. She took a step towards Dipper and he hastily retreated a step. "Do you want to play with me?"

"AH-" Dipper opened his mouth, begging for his vocal cords to work. He cleared his throat a moment later. "I'm sorry, but I need to go somewhere. Right now, actually," said Dipper.

"Go?" she asked as Dipper slowly started side-walking, trying to get around her.

"Yes. Right, absolutely now," Dipper told her with a fevered shaking of his head. She then leapt to be in front of him, and he nearly fell backwards, stumbling away as he shouted in fear.

"Why do you want to leave right now?" the girl asked with a gentle smile, making her all the more scary, "We could have so much fun in here," said the girl in joy as she took two more step to Dipper, in which her face was a few inches away from his.

"Fun?" he repeated, "you know we're not supposed to talk to strangers, so I can't really-"

"Oh! Then I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Sammy Smith."

The name made Dipper really tremble.

She wasn't a local.

She was dead.

To encounter someone that died more than hundred years ago was a little more than just your average shocker. Dipper took another, huge step back to avoid her, but then he bumped into something. It was softer than a piece of dried, broken wood. He slowly craned his head around.

It was another person. Dipper tried yelling and running past Sammy, but a pair of arms grabbed him and firmly locked him into place. The person was slightly taller than him, and slowly pushed his head around to look at Dipper.

"Hey Sammy, who is this kid, then?" asked the person behind Dipper as the modern age, perfectly normal boy wondered if this was how he was going to die.

"Oh Matthew, you always have to ruin my fun. He hasn't introduced himself to me," said Sammy, the undead girl. Dipper silently mouthed the name she had just uttered. Matthew... as in Matthew Charles? The person in the letters?

"What's your name kid?" asked the boy named Matthews, still holding Dipper in place.

"Um... I'm Dipper, Dipper P-Pines," said Dipper. Maybe if he played their game they would see kindness on him.

"Well then, Dipper Pines," the person slowly let go, and walked around to face Dipper with the girl, "welcome to our coal mine."

Dipper stumbled backwards, eyeing these two people. He was just as filthy as she was. In fact, as he eyed the two figures, he realized that they were wearing the same clothes, except the ones on Matthew fit much better than that on Sammy, whose clothing was slightly loose and worn. He was a tad taller than Dipper, and looked wiser, more level headed than his other counterpart.

"Your coal mine?" Dipper asked.

"We have lived in this place for a long, long time," said Sammy as she laid her fingers to Dipper's face, and he did his best not to fall backwards in his urge to bend away.

"Since march 12, 1906," Matthew chimed in.

"Well actually... I was dead before that, but here I am," Sammy added with a stroke against Dipper's eyebrows.

"So wait, you guys are... zombies?" asked Dipper. They weren't spectral and floating, so that ruled out any kind of ghost that he had seen before.

"A what?" Matthew demanded.

"A zombie, you know," Dipper chuckled, but cleared his throat when the two undead figures exchanged a look, "cursed to living past death? Animated... coprses?" Dipper added at the end of his sentence, fearful of inciting anger.

"Hm... yes, I suppose you can put it like that," said Sammy as she was pinching Dipper's cheeks.

Dipper swallowed, staring between the two of them. "So, uh, you eat brains?"

"Brains?" Sammy laughed animatedly, "no!"

"Oh thank goodness," Dipper sighed, some of his tension leaving him. Then Sammy spoke again.

"We like to eat adults! Oh, and people for not helping us trying to survive in the mines, but we don't eat kids like you. Well... I might want a taste of you, anyway," she grinned toothily, and Dipper felt all the color from his face fade.

"Stop that Sammy, that sounds disgusting," said Matthew and he smacked the back of her head.

"Ow! It was just a joke!" she told him, and then looked to Dipper, "It was just a joke."

"Right... eating people... funny," Dipper nodded stiffly. Dipper step away from the two undead kids, finally free from Sammy's examining of his face.

"But on the topic of you," Matthew suddely spoke, catching Dipper's attention with his stronger voice, "why have you come hear?"

"I-I-I," Dipper took a breath, and prepared to speak, "I was just walking through the woods and I just found this place," lied Dipper, his heart was besting fast. "Then I got in... and I looked through some stuff."

"Huh. My box, isn't it?" asked Matthews as he rose an eyebrow. Dipper glanced to his hands, still holding the wooden box. "I was here the whole time when you came in," Matthew told him errily, stepping slowly closer, "I wanted to see what you were going to do."

"Oh... and?" Dipper asked. Matthew face, perfectly devoid of emotion as he stared at him with the same black eyes suddenly burst into laughter. It was the nervous energy that caused Dipper to laugh with him.  
"Well don't worry, we ain't going to eat!" he told Dipper with a clap on the shoulder.

"You-You're not?" said Dipper in confusion.

"No! I told you; we don't eat kids. We just eat adults and people who tried to harm us," Samme explained, listing the miss-doers with her fingers, "but that's it. You're not trying to harm us, are you?" asked Sammy, and Dipper quickly shook his head.

"Not I'm not. I was just looking..." Dipper realized he had failed his own lie, but continued on with his truthful explanation," looking for something I read from a book. That's it," answered Dipper.

"What book?" they asked in unison.

Too many times Dipper had to wrestle that journal out of the hands of others, monsters included. This would be one of the few, rare times he could use it as a means of escape. Maybe if he showed them the journal, they would trust him enough to let him go? It was worth a shot at least, otherwise they'd might as well eat him now.

"Here," he pulled open his journal, and flipped open a page, facing away from them. The two kids looked at the big as they never seen anything like it. Matthews walked towards Dipper and flipped a page. The undead girl stepped next to him.

"What's it say?" she asked. Matthew 'shh'ed her and continued to flip through the pages.

"This... this is all real?" Matthew asked Dipper, his eyes wide and shining.

"So far, yeap," Dipper nodded.

"My god," Matthew chuckled, clearly despite himself. "Sammy, look at this one!" he pointed to a page where a black triangle with an eye was sketched in, "a demon named Bill! Isn't that something!"

"Wow!" she added as she looked through the page, "I thought demons were named things like Satan."

"Not this guy," Dipper told them, and they both looked to him in further awe. He grinned, fairly certain he had won their trust, "yeah, that's right. I met him. I beat him in a deadly game inside his world of dreams and nightmares."

"This is... amazing! Dipper! Wow! You must be the coolest boy we've ever met," exclaimed Sammy.

Dipper actually managed to blush, not expecting her sweet comment.

"Well, I don't know about that-"

"Yeah Dipper," Matthew added, "you have so many things in this book, I'm jealous! I never had anything like... like this!" said Matthews, taking a step away from the journal. He was smiling. He was grinning with excitement and amazement to Dipper, and he was smiling back to Matthews.

"Not trying to brag," Dipper shrugged, "but I get that a lot," Dipper told them.

This was perfect. He was positive he was no longer going to be eaten- he won their respect and admiration. All he needed was a final nail in the box and it was over. But what... what would act as the final olive branch?

The box.

"Oh!" Dipper stowed away his journal, and lifted the box into the air, "And I also have something that belongs to you." He handed it to Matthew, smiling at his old belongings. Dipper also pulled out the dynamite in his vest and gave it to Matthews. "I thought I needed for emergences, but... you know, I don't think my Grunkle would let me keep it. Then again... he'd probably-"

"Your what?" Sammy asked.

"Huh?"

"What's a Grunkle?" Matthew asked with a frown. Dipper opened his mouth to answer that, ready for a rant about naming his grand uncle.

"... it doesn't matter," Dipper waved a hand, assuring them easily.

Matthews looked to Dipper and handed the dynamite back. "I want you to have it."

"But its-"

"I don't have a use for it. Keep it, maybe as a memory of us to you," said Matthews. Dipper chuckled, and took the dynamite from him. These two weren't all that bad once you got to know them... and after the fact that they apparently eat adults. With a small shudder, Dipper put the explosive in his vest.

"Well... thank you. You know," he added, looking to the journal in his other hand, "I sometimes add something into the journal when I discover something. I know I called you zombies, but maybe I can add something else in here about you two. You don't strike me as being really zombies."

"Oh! We'll be in a book!" Sammy bounded into the air, clutching Matthews sleeves, "how marvelous!"

"That would be fantastic, Dipper," Matthew added calmly, a fair smile on his lips.

"Cool. So... I really have to be going now," said Dipper as he walked past them calmly.

"Already?" Sammy asked with a whine, "but come now, you just got here!"

"Sammy, let him go," the other undead boy calmed her with a pat on her shoulder, "besides, he'll come visit, won't he?"

Dipper stared at them. They seemed to hopeful that he would come back and visit them once more. Was it possible Dipper had just made his first two undead friends? He grinned and nodded.

"Of course I will," he told them, and then got an idea, "I'll even bring my sister."

"You have a sister!?" Sammy demanded, "Finally! I can talk with a proper lady again!"

"Ah, ha ha ha, I don't know about that," Dipper told them with an awkward chuckle. Mabel may think herself a proper lady, but she could give these two a run for their money. "Or maybe I could bring Wendy, and Soos- oh... wait, maybe not Soos," Dipper told himself, remembering that while Soos was a great guy, the two here may try to eat him. "But I'll come and visit again."

"Thank you so much!" Sammy waved her arm viciously through the air as Dipper turned and started to leave.

"Goodbye, Dipper," said Matthews as he too waved goodbye. "I'm glad we could have met you."

He waved back once more, and began his hike from to the exit.

It had been a lie. He really didn't want to come back. They kind of creeped him out- two undead, never aging kids who ate adults? What's with that? And if they really were undead cannibals, that meant returning put his life in danger. It was stupid to think he'd come back.

But as he found the moon ahead of him far into the night sky, Dipper couldn't help but smile lightly.

He would come back.

* * *

_Man, this was really fun to work on. Had to edit it abit, and had a lot of help from EZB, but we got it done. XxSkullCandyxX, this was a really great story and I'm happy to have this in the story. Sorry it took so long. Merry Christmas, XxSkullCandyxX and everyone else who's reading this! Get awesome presents, eat a bunch, stay awesome, and I will see YOU . . . in the next chapter. Bye-byaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! (A horde of random zombie busts through TEi's door a he gets eaten alive.)_


	8. In the Trees

She raced through the forest like a bat out of Hell, arms extended outward as she cut through the low hanging branches and scattered shrubbery, the jagged edges of bark slicing through the palms of his hands. But Wendy didn't care – she too fueled with adrenaline to notice the blood seeping through her wounds and trickling down her fingers. She needed to get away. Needed to find her friends, wherever they were.

Wherever they were hiding.

Shards of hail pricked her skin, the clap of thunder sending a jolt straight through her racing heart. Her body begged for air, but her legs kept on moving, determined to get away from the thing that had attacked their campsite. The thing that dragged Dipper away. Stan urged them to stay together, for it was easy to get lost in this black sea of trees. But when they heard their friends frightful screams into the distance, Wendy immediately charged deeper into the forest, the sound of Stan and Mabel's voices echoing behind her.

But there was nothing in her wake. Empty paths lead into various directions, but Wendy couldn't remember which path she had taken that lead back to Stan and Mabel. Every tree looked the same, every bush matching the other. The ground was covered in dead twigs and fallen leaves and the ground felt soft and spongy beneath her feet once the downpour started to occur. She was lost, with no way to contact her friends and figure out where they were. She felt stupid for running off.

And when she heard the guttural sound of a throaty growl, stupidity immediately morphed into fear.

Clouds of fog could be seen coming out of her mouth with every exhale of breath she took, the temperatures dropping fiercely the deeper he fell into the forest. Daggers pierced her chest with every inhale of breath she took and it didn't take long before Wendy's knees finally gave out.

Twigs and damp soil smeared across her face, her fingers clawing into the earth to drag her tired body through the forest. She could feel its presence hovering dangerously over her and Wendy wanted nothing more than to get away as safely as she could.

Paranoia flooded her senses. It was almost like she could feel its jagged nails scraping along her spine, feel its frozen breath lingering at the nape of her neck, its teeth crooked and pointy and gleaming in the silver moonlight that peaked through the darkened storm clouds.

"Wendy …" It whispered, sharp and menacing. "Wendy!"

"WENDY!"

Her eyes shot open, peering into the distance just enough to see past the showering hail. "Dipper?"

"Wendy! Over here! Hurry!" Her friend called, sinking into the trees until all Wendy could see was the back of his head.

"Dipper! Dude!" Wendy screamed, finding her strength and rushing to her feet, kicking up clumps of mud and soil as she tore through the forest.

"Hurry!" Dipper urged desperately, his figure coming back into view as Wendy ran faster. The mass amount of trees began to split, less and less coming into view until Wendy noticed that they were coming close to a cave. Without any hesitation, Dipper slipped through the small entrance and urged Wendy to follow.

Sliding on her stomach, Wendy slipped into the cave and gulped large amounts of air, raindrops sliding against her exposed shivering skin and soaking clothes. She opened her eyes, not even realizing they were closed and blinked owlishly when she noticed how incredibly dark the cave was.

Hoisting herself up, she reached out into the darkness and quickly grabbed onto Dipper once she felt her friend's presence. "Dipper! Dipper, are you alright? Are you hurt? What the hell happened? How did you get away?"

The questions kept flowing as she examined her friend as best she could through the darkness, her fingers grazing over his arms and chest to see if she could feel any cuts or bumps. Nothing out of the ordinary, which made Wendy sigh in relief, holding Dipper close. "You had us worried sick, man. We thought we … we thought we had lost you."

"Where are the others?" Dipper asked with cold precision. It was a tone Wendy wasn't used to hearing from the young boy and she flummoxed, taken aback.

"Uhh," she ceased her hung, but still kept her arms wrapped around Dipper's frame. "I don't know. I lost them in the forest when I heard you screaming."

"Hmm…" Dipper hummed, pulling himself away from Wendy's grip. The tone in his voice was almost as cold as his skin, so cold it turned the raindrops sliding down his frame into little shards of ice. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was Dipper acting like this all of a sudden? _He'd never willing pull away from a hug from me._

Absentmindedly, Wendy slowly reached for her small hatchet she kept on her belt loop, her eyes slowly adjusting through the darkness as Dipper's small frame slowly started coming into view. "Dipper…?"

"I guess you'll have to do," he interrupted her, the undertone of his voice raspy and so unlike himself. "I'm sure the others will emerge at the sound of screaming. After all, it worked on you."

"You…" She fell backwards on butt, kicking her feet and pushing herself out of the cave as Dipper grew closer. "W-What the fuck are you!?"

"Oh, don't you worry," the creature grinned maliciously, growing immensely taller, it's jagged, pointed teeth gleaming in the moonlight until it charged forward, striking Wendy at the neck and pinning her down into the spongy soil. Thunder crashed and lightning struck, a strip of light highlight the features of Dipper's face, his eyes pitch black and feral, his smile curved into a vicious grin. But when he spoke, Wendy swore she could hear the cracks of her friends innocent voice, buried underneath a tone that was demonic and sinister.

"Your Big Dipper is still here," it whispered, controlling Wendy's fingers to pierce through the skin of her neck. "He's still here … screaming at me, begging me not to make him watch you die."

Tears streaming down her face, Wendy screamed and screamed.


	9. EZB's The Knock Pt 2

Waddles the pig and his family trotted happily in the pen, awaiting the coming daily regiment of food. He and his piglets and his wife, named Marble for her black and white skin and shining eyes by none other than Dipper Pines, were prancing about in the late morning sun. Waddles was just a pig. A pig who had seen a lot, been through a lot, and survived it all. And he glinted into the bright spring sky, after a long week of rain.

He was now a full sized swine, and a proud one. His memory was surprisingly competent for an animal who lived most of his days pacing around in the mud and splashing his children back when they got too jittery. All in thanks to Dipper.

Dipper, the last human. The only human. The brother to Waddles long gone master and caretaker, Mabel.

Even after seven years Waddels sometime oinked that same way, catching the older teen by surprise when he took care of lot of them. The sole resident of the building next to the pig pen had made sure to provide equal, if not more amenities for the pigs than he had. Very well insolated pen with a heater, thick doors, and good clean water. That was usually better then what Dipper was used to getting from himself.

Then again, after that long, wintery night, Dipper had taken to eating less and less since then.

Nightmares like that had come and gone, but nothing quite since that night.

As a gust of a breeze tossed the pig's ears up, the sounds of scratching gravel caught the pigs attention. They all ran quickly to the edge of the fence, desperate to see their hopeful master.

A worn, but very functional truck was driving up the winding gravel path that lead to the former Mystery Shack. Inside it, to the farm animals delight, was none other than Dipper Pines. A few moments later the truck came to a halt before the fence, and the driver door opened and slammed shut.

"I'm back guys," Dipper called to them as he walked around the side of the truck, where many bags of corn and pig feed awaited. "Anything bother you?" he called, spotting Waddles watching him excitedly from the protected gaze of the fence. The pig oinked in reply, and Dipper nodded. "Good. I try to be fast with these, but I remember that coyote in the woods. You didn't see him, right?" another oink. "Good."

Dipper lifted two bags of food, easily fifty pounds each onto his shoulders without a sweat. His body was used to physical labor by now. After all, there was no one else to depend on, and these pigs ate quite a lot.

"One for now," Dipper told them as he stepped over, and plopped the bags against the fence nearby the food bar. He picked up a combat knife from a holster by his shin, and sliced open the top. "Here you guys are. Nice and fresh corn. Go crazy."

The corn pulled off from a distant farm down the road away from Gravity Falls spilled into the food bar for the pigs, and the seven of them went nuts. Waddles got first pick, but he was no hoarder. The rest of the family joined in, even dainty Marble, who carefully chose her corn with a quaint sniff of her snout.

"C'mon Marble," Dipper egged her on, and she obliged him with a satisfactory piece of vegetable. "Good girl. Your mother would be proud," Dipper told her, reaching in to pat her back. She oinked briefly in reply. "Hell, Mabel probably would have just jumped in and joined you if I told her I buttered the corn."

Dipper laughed and picked back up the other bag. The food would be for later. There were six other bags like that in his truck, or Soos's truck, saved for the other days to come. Seven pigs really did eat a lot, but they kept Dipper sane and made his life feel more than just a game of survival for himself.

He tossed the heavier bag back into the truck and slipped the knife into it's sheathe. He'd been lucky when he went back into town and raided the sheriffs department. Since the one encounter, he had wanted a final bit of security, especially something that couldn't jam. A combat knife would do just fine.

Dipper's feet reached the wooden boards of the entrance. He did not push immediately forward though. It had been tradition, since that one night, to stare on the door. More specifically, he would stare into the one piece of evidence that he had not gone insane that one time.

The small indent that had been pounded into the wooden frame. Just a smidgeon smaller than his own hand. Slowly, he extended his gloved fingers ahead and felt it. He could almost make out the divots that would have belonged to knuckles.

Human-like features.

The kind of features that should no longer be possible.

Then with a strong grin, he turned and looked to his upper left. There, staring at him, was a fully-functioning 24-hour camera.

"No sneaking up on me this time," Dipper told the camera, and then unlocked the door.

Pushing past the reinforced front door, Dipper found himself surrounded with crates of supplies. The incident had prompted him to take more desperate measures to declaring his safety, and the once safe feeling town now stood as a reminder that there could be something else out there. Something that knocked on his door at night.

Ammunitions, rations, bottled water, extra clothing, medicine, all sorts of boxes laid around the former Gift Shop, bringing to it a new life that Dipper had not seen for years, not since he decided that seeing the happy faces would only bring him to tears as he knew that there was no one left to talk to.

Aside from Waddles.

A generator hummed loudly in the living room, tied to a large metal exercise bike that Dipper had jury-rigged together, creating a source of cardiovascular exercise and a chance to let the machine rest.

That poor generator hadn't worked in over two years, when Dipper decided that a computer and the lights of the shack were no longer needed. He saw well in the dark, and he enjoyed the idea of writing like a pioneer. It made him feel accomplished. But, as is all things in life revolving survival, necessity won over in the end. Dipper had quickly decided to re-think his take on electricity since that terrifying night.

He had miraculously, all in a single night, gotten the generator back to working perfectly. All he needed was to steal away sources of gasoline at first. Now the chargeable batteries would be powered by his peddling, and all in the favor of his computer, the lights, and the cameras.

Then again, there was the power generator downstairs.

As Dipper turned back away from the living room he had peered into, he spied the long covered up wall that lead to the hidden staircase. It was another relic from the past, things that he left behind in the world of human kind stayed down there. He didn't like to acknowledge its existence at all. It only served to remind him what he was missing.

Now he was drawn to it. Drawn to it like a moth. He felt the great paneling job he had done, feeling the tiny crease with his fingers, and then digging his nails into the sides, peeling away the cheap wallpaper. With ease and a small grunt, Dipper ripped it away.

Darkness lay before him, and dust littered the steps that would lead down into the hidden passageway. Next to the stairs on the wall was a small switch. Dipper eyed it, and with a small grin, he flicked the switch. Nothing happened, at first.

Pale green light flickered above, illuminating the many webs of dust that had formed over the years of neglect. Dipper turned back to the front door, staring at the day. Just looking out into the woods, wondering if whatever it was could still be out there made him shiver. He marched to the door and slammed it shut, and then double locked it.

"Okay, Grunkle Stan," Dipper said to himself, "let's see what I've tried forgetting about."

Dipper grabbed a flashlight atop one of the boxes and stepped inside the stairs, keeping a hand outstretched as he pushed away the cobwebs. There was just enough light to keep Dipper aware of his position in the hallway, but not enough to see the sides of the hall. That was what the flashlight was for.

To and fro he scouted the walls with his handheld beam of light. Pipes and readings of pressure covered both sides. He remembered these- the steam vents for the huge generator below. Ahead of him with a quick glance, Dipper saw an old elevator, crank activated and non-automated door.

He stepped to it. Pulling the grate of a door open was easy, but stepping inside? He had to commit himself to that. Should he do it? This was a part of his life that was over. Never again was there a need to get the materials that rested below, or see the traces he couldn't see himself throw away.

His hand twitched.

Dipper needed to go down, into the depths.

Two steps and a turn about, Dipper grasped the crank, and lowered it. The grates closed in front of him, and he began to sink down. The lights faded around him as his world, the world of the surface of the world rose and disappeared far above him. Sweat was forming on his face even through the cold wind that gust past him. He hadn't been so torn about anything like this since the first time he had to kill an animal to eat.

The elevator came to a stop, and Dipper gasped. The lights down here had yet to be turned on. He slowly pushed open the grate, and Dipper pulled the flashlight upwards, illuminating his path.

It was the old lab and operations that Stanford Pines had used to conduct the experiment. The one that Dipper was present for. The one he intended to stop, to save the world.

He saved the world, but at a cost it seemed.

Dipper stepped closer, and passed a key inserted into a lock by a computer. It was the safety terminal, allowing the machine to run. Dipper, after the incident had turned it and left it there. He barely remembered it at all, but stared at it. Next to it was a cluster of switches. Even after seven years, he knew which one was for the power.

He flicked it.

A machine deep in the walls around him groaned a metal yawn, awakening after such a long time. The beast was being stirred, and the lights around Dipper flickered and cast light onto the mechanisms around him. They were mostly unimportant to him; scanners and other life-detecting equipment rooted into the floor and far too heavy to lift.

There was a dusty trio of books on his right, sitting on a table with a fallen picture. Dipper smiled as he approached the long lost journals. One, two, and Three; each of the mysteriously written books sat in a pile of dust atop one another. The book that Dipper could claim started all of this, number three flashed light with its golden embroidery in the leather casing, tempting him to pick it up.

His hands did move forward, but not for the books. Instead, Dipper's fingers found the fallen picture in a frame, and lifted it up into the light. He hadn't seen either of those faces in over seven years. Smiling, happy, excited, and so young. Him and Mabel, age twelve, posing for a picture.

"You look so happy, Mabel," Dipper suddenly said, sadness wracking his throat.

He wanted to keep staring at himself and his long lost sister, but the lights in the main room cast through the window finally. Dipper barely turned his head and saw it, staring back at him.

There. There it was. The metal monster that ended Dipper's life seven years ago and put him into this purgatory of survival and loneliness.

The portal.

An upside down triangle was suspended by a single platform, wired with countless thick circuitry at the base. Four short, wide tubes were suspended above the dirt room and in the ground as well, dark and empty. They were conduits of energy, sustaining the still dark portal that had been untouched for so long. Aside from the strangely alien looking contraption, there was little to no construction. Only wooden beams kept the walls and ceiling up.

Dipper stared at it all, anger and regret pouring into his mind.

He saw, like a ghost racing before his vision, the actions that caused it all to happen.

There he was, with his sister. A possessed agent of the government stood before Dipper and Mabel, using them as a threat for Grunkle Stan. Bill Cipher, the demon of dreams and nightmares needed the portal. With it, he could send his real body into the world of the living, and cause whatever he wished.

Yet Dipper didn't allow it. Grunkle Stan had confessed it would only allow one interaction between a recipient, and he was saving that for one man. Dipper saw the madness in the man's eyes, and knew that Cipher would kill his sister if he let that happen.

So he did what he thought was best. He broke free from the grasp and ran into the portal, trying to save his family by throwing himself inside.

But he never entered the portal. Or so he thought.

He had indeed gone into the portal, but it had all been within a single moment. When he stepped back out, as he had just passed through, the world was empty. No one was in the room, upstairs, in the town, everyone had gone. There were traces of people being just there- food on the stove, cars still running, crashing into buildings and power lines. He hadn't left the world.

Everyone else had.

And, as Dipper reasoned, it was his fault. Somehow, he knew it had been his fault.

Dipper blinked and looked away from the portal. He was staring at the journals, and something lying underneath them that he had mistaken for a cluster of dust. They were papers.

Gently shifting off the journals, Dipper rose the papers to his face, and blew away residual dust. It was Grunkle Stan's handwriting. He could make it out, but he needed the lamp light that was on the desk.

Without much more of a fuss, Dipper pulled out the chair tucked under the desk and began to read these papers. They were complicated theories on how the portal worked.

Dipper had, over the past seven years, the opportunity to educate himself on whatever was left in the world to be learnt. He had almost gotten into quantum mechanics, but the closest resources to that were from the university of Portland, and the city two years ago had burned down during a terrible thunderstorm. He could almost make out the babble of numbers and easily five times more symbols.

Hours passed as he read into the equations and theorems regarding faster than light travel and trans-dimensional jumping. Dipper had forgotten where he was, engrossed with reading into the past.

What he started realizing, over hours of time, was that Grunkle Stan had actually been onto a new theory about the portal. That while it had the option to send matter and energy to another coordinates in the universe, it could also act as a filter. With an input, under certain energy conditions, the portal could detect something throughout the universe and act as a conduit for all signatures registering of that type.

Had Dipper been the filter for mankind? Had somehow he, by leaping through the portal, acted as a filter for humans throughout the universe?

That couldn't be right- it wasn't just humans. Human-level intelligence or higher had all vanished. Not just humans, but all things that matched them in smarts and the ability to use their head. Dipper had never come across anything that had the potential to think like he did, and since that day, hadn't planned on meeting anyone else who could.

So maybe it had been his fault. But... if it wasn't just a divine punishment, as he had assumed all these years, if it had been an experiment gone wrong, that meant something.

It could be reversed.

Dipper's mind exploded with possibilities. He stood up, his fingers trembling. This was more than a theory. He checked the adjusted measurements on the devices next to him, and realized that Grunkle Stan had truly changed the settings for his theory.

The lone human survivor gasped and clapped his hand over his mouth. He could do it. There was a chance he could get them all back- every single human who had been whisked away forever, he could change that.

He clutched the papers suddenly and folded them, tucking them into his back pockets. He had things to plan now. The type of material that powered the portal were dangerous, and rare. If he was lucky, somewhere nearby there would be sources of hazardous waste or nuclear rods to throw into the generator. But as optimistic he was about his chances, he needed to be practical.

Dipper took the elevator back upstairs, counting away the seconds before he could get to the books he had collected from the libraries over the state. Somewhere inside that he could determine where the closest nuclear reactor was. Then again, radiation was one of the few things he was not prepared for. Dangerous waste, yes. Maybe he could find a good source of that nearby.

He stepped out from the hallway, having left the elevator and the hallway, and slowly placed back the torn paneling over the hole in the wall. Dipper peered outside. It was dark already.

"Crap," Dipper growled, and he moved towards a switch by the front door. The outside world was lit up past the wooden bars by the window. Now he could see everything moving out there.

He sighed, and turned for the stairs, leading him up into his room. His head was tired and heavy- he hadn't read something new like that in years, let alone something complicated and well-thought out and original. He was grinning to himself. This was fantastic news. There was a hope, a goal again. He had something to fight for,-more than his, or his pigs, survival.

He could save everyone.

Dipper closed his reinforced bedroom door behind him. Set up on the old desk was now a laptop. Plugged into the wall and connected with a series of cables, Dipper walked over and clicked the spacebar. The black screen flickered new life, and four different screens showed angles of the house.

He nodded to himself after each of the screens shifted to new positions, showing off the front door, the pig pen, the old boarded up back door, and overlooking the kitchen windows. Each of the eight cameras he had retrieved and cleaned from Gravity Falls were working still.

Walking away from the desk, he lifted his vest and tossed it aside. Today was not going to be a day where he cared about being tidy. He would do that later. His holsters fell away next, gently placed aside, with their armaments, by the desk. Stripping away heavy layer after heavy layer, Dipper finally removed his shirt, revealing a chest and washboard stomach any man would be proud to have.

The clothes to the floor, Dipper spun and fell backwards, still grinning as he closed his eyes. This was so good. Everything was working in his favor.

Knock, knock.

His eyes darted open as fast as his heart sped up. There was no time to think, not time to react. Without a word to react with, he scrambled up and to the desk. The cameras were not showing anything by the front door, but that was sure as hell where the sound came from.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Dipper growled as he slammed on a white t-shirt, and slammed back onto him the holsters. Once they were secure, he lifted the axe into one hand and ran from his room, storming down the stairs. He looked to the door, seeing the still active lights in the gift shop.

Nothing had happened quite yet. He wanted to walk closer, but he stalled. And good thing too.

Knock, knock.

"Holy fuck!" Dipper whispered.

It had been months since this happened. Why now? Why again? The survivor removed a gun with one hand as he held out his axe, and approached the front door.

"I'm still here, yeah," Dipper shouted loudly at the door. "I'm still here! Now, let's try this again. Who are you!?"

No response.

"I asked you a question! Who are-"

Knock, knock.

"Fuckin' sakes," Dipper growled as he moved to the sides of the window. If the thing couldn't speak, it would at least know how to communicate. But it showed no signs of interacting with him. How was it capable of knowing how to knock if it wasn't intelligent? Had it learned a pattern from humans? Was this something long since active and alive, and it hadn't been until humans left that it awoke.

Dipper found himself against the wall, and then her peered through the cracks in the window boards. He could see the front door.

Nothing was there.

Knock, knock.

The feeling drained from Dipper as soon as the sound came again. It was still by the front door, but he had watched the wood tremble as nothing struck it.

"I... am I being haunted!?" Dipper gasped, and ran for one of the crates. Inside, he found the adapted EMF detector that he had used when trying to enter the old abandoned Dusk 2 Dawn store. As he turned the device on, Dipper remembered something. The old ghosts in the shop had also vanished.

Whatever was there couldn't be a ghost.

Nothing was there. Absolutely nothing.

Knock, knock.

"Okay, you know what?" Dipper shouted, almost laughing at himself, "this was really scary the first time," he told the entity, if there was one, "but now? Now?! I'm pissed! You, and you stupid fucking game of 'knock knock' can go fuck yourself! You hear me!? GO FUCK-"

Knock, knock.

Dipper laughed and raised the pistol for the door.

Knock, knock.

That one hadn't come from the front door. Dipper's eyes widened and he slowly turned around, staring behind him.

Knock, knock.

Dipper spun back around. That one had been from the front door.

Knock, knock.

That one was, if Dipper was guessing correctly, the boarded up back door. Unless this thing was faster than anything else Dipper had ever heard of, he knew his situation had just worsened.

There were two of them.

"Oh god," Dipper gasped as he turned in place. What could he do? Nothing itself was knocking on his door now, and there were two of it? What did you do against something that didn't exist?

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Dipper screamed and turned his gun towards the front door as he backed away. The knocking had become slightly more agitated and powerful. Dipper stared. Dust had flown off the sides of the door in places Dipper didn't even know there had been dust. The floor had shaken.

Knock, knock.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Two separate beats against wooden doors, but Dipper's focus was entirely on the first, now very strong, and very dangerous. The locks inside rattled and shook with the pounding as whatever awaited outside began to slam the door with force that made Dipper tremble.

He couldn't wait. He refused to wait.

Lifting his pistol, he fired.

Again and again, he pulled the trigger, shooting into the thick wooden door, aware that the heavy planks of wood would not allow the standard sized rounds to pass through. It was a threat from Dipper- back away now, or else.

It seemed to work. The knocking stopped.

Dipper gasped and lowered his emptied revolver to rest aside his leg. He gasped when he felt the heat of the end of the gun touch his pant, nearly burning a hole through the pajama fabric.

"Okay. They don't like guns," Dipper sighed and smiled. "I got them now."

BANG.

Dipper screamed and dropped his gun. The force behind the slam of the front door was far too great to be a human being. The wood bent backwards, barely held on by the locks and deadbolt Dipper had installed.

BANG.

Knock, knock.

The one by the back door had returned.

Again the wood bent backwards. Dipper raised his axe and his breathing hastened.

Knock, knock.

Dipper spun around again. He heard that by the old kitchen door.

Knock, knock.

Now another new knocking- this time from the windows, rattling their frames. Dipper was pulling at the hair in his head. There was many of them.

Then there was a new noise. Not a single burst of energy, but a long, powerful, sustained vibration of the air around Dipper.

A scream.

Dipper held his hands to his ears as the world shook and trembled with the power behind the screech. It was so high pitched and so overwhelming Dipper felt his eyes water. His hands did little to muffle the sound, but his entire body felt its presence. The world could have been shaking for all he knew.

The deadbolt snapped off and went flying. The secondary lock split in half. Both were stainless steel and worth quite a lot of money. Just tossed off a large, heavy door like they were toys. Dipper watched both rattle to the floor, and stop by his feet.

His gaze slowly lifted his head to the now entirely open door.

Slowly it slid open. It opened with the slowest, loudest creaking a door could have, and the night beckoned him. Wind rushed inside, and several of the boxes fell aside. Dipper couldn't wait. His instincts all told him something was running at him now.

He spun and ran up the stairs faster than he had in his entire life. It was inside now, chasing him. Barely a few feet behind him. He heard a rush of wind just behind him when he ran into his room and slammed the door. Before he could think about locking it, Dipper swung the axe into the door and doorframe, wedging the metal hatchet into wood, forcing the door shut, and just in time.

Knock, knock.

It was at his door now, demanding to be let inside still. Dipper gasped as he reached for his other pistol. This thing wanted him. It had the chance to pillage his home, but it wanted him.

He was trapped.

"Shit, shit, c'mon," Dipper spun around the room, looking for his last saving grace. He had tossed aside the pistol uncaringly, aware of the thickness of his door. A pistol round wouldn't be going through that sucker, just like before, and it was now clear that Dipper was dealing with something that didn't care for threats.

There it was. He found it under his bed. The hunting shotgun.

Knock, knock.

"FUCK YOU!" Dipper roared as he ran over, put the gun against the door, and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The door indeed rattled, but it was by Dipper's will, and not the unseen entity. The shotgun blasted through the wood point-blank, showering the other wall and bathroom door with splinters as his solid slug blew through everything in its way, eventually becoming imbedded in a far reach of the house.

Dipper could repair damage, but he couldn't fix the world if he was dead.

He waited for a reply. For anything. All Dipper heard was squealing from outside.

"Waddles," Dipper gasped.

His bedroom door slammed open and he charged down the stairs. Cocking the shotgun in his hands as he went, he fled out the still open front door to the pigs. They had left their comfy home hut and wandered outside, staring at Dipper fearfully. As he ran over, he noticed them all were safe and sound.

"You... you guys see anything!?" he coughed as he came to a halt. Waddles squealed but didn't turn away. If the pigs had seen anything, they weren't keen on telling him. It was more likely they were worried that Dipper had shot himself. "Okay, you're alright."

Then Dipper realized where he was. Outside. He was no longer indoors, but out, and around the world. He prepped his shotgun in his hands and slowly backed into his home. The pigs watched him go caringly, and Dipper slowly pushed the front door shut, noticing the six bullets imbedded in the indoor side.

His hands went to lock the door down, but then he growled. Whatever it had been out there clean-blew away the locks with just a scream. Dipper slowly stepped through his house, now aware that these things could be inside with him. His shotgun end was the first thing to enter a room as he left the gift shop.

He checked them all- the places he heard the knocking from. The kitchen, the backdoors, the windows- everywhere. There was no sign of damage aside from the front door. Eventually he wandered back into the gift shop, slowly pushed the stacks of heavy boxes to block access to the lock-broken door. Nothing was getting in tonight.

Thirty minutes later of patrolling around the shack, Dipper finally stomped up the stairs, walking into his room, carefully avoiding the splinters scattered across the hallway floor. Dipper wondered if he had killed one when he fired the shotgun. He stared at the section he imagined some spectral creature laying on, and pushed his toes there. Nothing moved or resisted his grace. If there had been a body, it wasn't there.

Finally, he closed the door to his room. He could see the perfectly circular hole his gun had made through the wood, and he wondered if these beings could slip through holes that small. Repairs would need to be done soon. If there were more of them, he would be seeing them soon again.

A beep behind him called to his attention. The computer warned him it was about to go on standby mode. He saw the cameras and then gasped. He could watch it happen from the outside.

Running over and knocking the chair aside, Dipper activated the one camera feed by the front door. He sped backwards through time, and finally saw it, the moment the door became unhinged. There was sound available, and so he un-muted the laptop. As he re-wound the footage, he finally found a good place-mark to start.

One minute before it happened.

The door was shaking, and he heard his muffled voice from inside, calling out to the invisible force that was in front of the camera, slamming itself into the door. Again and again the door was knocked on, the exact same placement of the invisible fist.

Then static sound. The visual screwed up.

A few moments later, after what Dipper assumed was the horrible, ear splitting scream that the creature emitted, the camera returned, showing the opening door.

"Wait a second," Dipper squinted and rewound the camera. Just before the static. He pressed play and raised the volume as he stared into the screen. Just passed the hazy and terrible distortions of recording quality.

Then he heard it. A sound. Something underneath the static.

Words.

He rewound again. Pressed play.

He heard it again and shook his head.

As Dipper stared into the static, he gasped and slammed his finger onto the spacebar. The video paused at just the right moment.

There, standing before the door, perfectly upright, was a shadow.

"What are you?" Dipper asked the screen, and rewound again. This time he played the sound loud and clear, and shivers crawled through his spines when he heard the words, whispered by what could have been many voices overlapping.

"Let... us... in..."


	10. A Most Unusual Request

**NOTE****: This is an intimately romantic oneshot, however it is written in a tasteful and respectable manner such that I feel an M-rating is not necessary. Regardless, younger and more sensitive readers should take heed to this message and decide whether or not they wish to proceed. And I have no clue why I wrote this. I just did. Enjoy da WenDips!**

* * *

It was a perfectly clear, cool, and cloudless Friday night. The star-coated sky was graced with a waxing crescent moon which looked down upon the small little city, bathing its many businesses and small high-rises in a warm, inviting glow.

Throughout the town, citizens were making the most of their much-needed reprieve from the stress and monotony of the work week on this wonderful evening. Greasey's Diner rung noisily with the banter of rowdy and slightly inebriated patrons drowning their troubles away with hard liquor. Bowling alleys and karaoke parlors were alive with the sounds of thumping techno beats interspersed with the thunderclap of pinfalls and slightly off-key singing.

Also full of life and laughter were the many and eclectic eating establishments which dotted the small town, and the locally-owned and world-renowned Italian restaurant, Il Costoso, was no exception. The five-star eatery provided the perfect atmosphere for couples, both young and old, to enjoy a romantic dinner together.

It was at this moment that the front door to the restaurant swung outward, pushed by a tall young man, clad in sharp black dress pants and a matching jacket and shirt with tie. Holding the door open, he cast a warm, contented smile towards his companion, a gorgeous red headed woman, as she stepped out into the night air. Letting go of the elegant brass door handle, he couldn't help but gaze, awestruck, at the incredible sight which beheld him.

Her jet black strapless dress shimmered resoundingly in the moonlight, hugging her perfectly curved and buxom form in a manner which seemed to defy the laws of physical science. Her mesmerizing emerald eyes radiated with intense happiness and warmth, a small yet loving smile adorning her gorgeous face. In the serene glow of this splendid eve, she appeared almost divine.

The scene took his breath away.

_'She's an angel. An absolute angel,'_ the man thought joyfully. _'How in the hell did I actually even get this lucky?'_

He had done it. He had finally done it, and even now he still could not believe that he had done it.

After many long years spent wandering hopelessly through an impenetrable fog of fearful, nervous silence, and wait until he was a little older since when he first developed his crush on the woman before him, he had finally summoned up the courage to ask her out on a date.

Her.

The girl who been there for him whenever he needed a break from the bland, empty, soulless, tiring, and somewhat life-threatening routine that was his life during his stay in Gravity Falls. The girl whom he had been friends with ever since he was a twelve. The girl whom, whenever she was around, whether it be a on friendly outing together or a simple wave and hello in passing, filled him with immeasurable hope and joy and made his anything-but-regular existence worth living for. The girl whom he undoubtedly and irrevocably loved with every beat of his heart, and would do anything in his power to ensure of her happiness and safety, even at the cost of his own life.

He stood there, transfixed, unable to take his eyes off of her.

The girl took notice of his trance-like state and giggled sweetly, closing the small gap between them and gently wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Dipper, I can't thank you enough for tonight. I've never had a date this wonderful before," she told him truthfully, pressing herself deeper into the folds of his jacket.

"Anything for you, Wendy," he replied, gingerly stroking the back of her head. "You of all people deserve it."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you," she murmured. "I'm really glad we could finally go out. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment to happen."

"Neither have I, and I couldn't be any happier." The two people continued their loving embrace for quite some time before slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, withdrawing from each other's arms.

A second or two of silence passed before Dipper spoke up again.

"So, Wendy, the night's still really young. Is there anything else you'd like to do tonight?" he asked casually. "We could go bowling or play a round of mini-golf, maybe even take a nice long stroll through the forest, away from everyone else." He honestly did not care what they did or where they went next, all he cared about was spending as much time as possible with the beautiful woman standing next to him.

Wendy pondered his question for only a few moments, smiling cheerfully as she did so.

"Well, I think most of the popular spots around town will be too crowded to really enjoy, and as much as I love going to the park I'm feeling a bit tired tonight, so why don't we go back to my place and watch a movie." Wendy suggested. "You know, something fun and romantic," she added with a flirtatious gaze.

The man perked up at Wendy's expression, grinning happily. "That sounds fantastic," he agreed jovially.

Dipper gently took her left hand into his right, entwining his fingers with hers, and together they set off down the sidewalk in the direction of the small apartment complex where Wendy resided, leaning into each other blissfully.

As they walked along the sparsely populated sidewalk, past bustling businesses and trendy hangout venues, both the man and woman were lost in deep, contented thought, replaying the incredible series of events that transpired on this perfect Friday over and over inside their minds. Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were greeted by the cookie-cutter assemblage of buildings; and still holding hands, Wendy lead Dipper towards the fourth edifice in the little cluster, into the lobby and up three flights of stairs, coming to a stop just outside the door to her room, number 305. Quickly rummaging through her lavender purse, the red headed girl fished out her keys and unlocked the door, beckoning him inside.

"Well, here we are. Home sweet home," Wendy giggled, setting her purse on the little wooden table next to the door as Dipper hung up his jacket inside the closet on the opposite side of the foyer. "Why don't you go pick out a few movies while I go make some popcorn."

"Sure thing," replied Dipper. Wendy smiled sweetly at him and made her way towards the quaintly-sized kitchen to prepare the fabled cinematic snack. Moments later, the hum of a microwave and the distinctive reports of exploding corn kernels could be heard.

Making a left into the small living room, Dipper approached the moderately-sized shelving unit supporting a late '90s cathode ray television complete with large boxy speakers, a combination VCR and Betamax tape deck, and a Laserdisc player. He began sort through the small collection of tapes and discs, muttering his opinions of each film quietly to himself as he did so.

"Let's see here...nah, too cheesy...too bland...not very romantic...hmm, this one might be decent...aha, this one's a classic...waayyy too violent...huh, I've never heard of this one before; looks kinda interesting."

A series of beeping sounds escaped from the microwave and the room now filled with a warm, buttery aroma.

Satisfied with his selections, Dipper went over and sat down on the couch, three tapes clutched firmly in his right hand. Wendy quickly joined him, setting the large bowl of fresh popcorn on the coffee table in front of her.

"Find anything good?" she asked him.

"Yeah," he told her, gesturing to the trio of movies. "We've got 'Just a Regular Movie,' the mother of all romantic comedies, 'Shy Guy,' and last but not least, 'The Engineer's Daughter.' Which one do you wanna watch?"

Wendy glanced back and forth between the three titles for a second or two. "Let's watch this one," she declared, pointing to the last tape. "Tambry told me it's supposed to be really good."

"Alright, cool." Dipper replied, handing her the tape. She got up and quickly inserted the movie into the VCR, turning on the TV and flicking the lights off in the process. The faint glow from the screen reflected beautifully off her dress, and once again Dipper found himself smiling deeply, unable to look away from her lovely countenance.

Wendy noticed his dreamy expression and let out a soft laugh.

"What are you looking at, dude?" she asked him playfully.

"Oh, nothing..." Dipper mused "just admiring how amazing you look right now." A faint blush tinted her cheeks as she returned to the couch.

"Here, lie down. We'll be much more comfortable that way," she stated with a sweet smile.

Taking the hint, Dipper swiveled ninety degrees counterclockwise and leaned back against the pillow, stretching his long legs out across the cushions. Wendy gathered herself in his lap and snuggled up close to him, her head resting just underneath his chin. She brought the bowl of popcorn into her lap as Dipper gently wrapped his arms around her stomach, holding her close and smiling lovingly at her, relishing in the splendor of their togetherness.

The tape began. A couple of previews for upcoming films flashed across the screen.

"See? Told you so," she cooed. "You make a great pillow, by the way."

Dipper chuckled lightly. "Glad to hear. I wouldn't have it any other way." He lowered his head and planted a soft, tender kiss on the top of Wendy's head, causing her to blush once more.

Soon the film began and the people turned their attention towards the TV, watching with interest as they munched on small handfuls of popcorn.

It was an old-fashioned romance feature set during the golden age of railroading. The protagonist, a somewhat shy young lad around their age, worked as a luggage carrier at the local train station. He was deeply in love with a girl he had known for quite some time now, the daughter of the engineer who ran the twelve-o-clock express, and every day he would try to talk to her, to tell her how he felt about her. Unfortunately for him, the frazzled old conductor was very overprotective of his little girl and forbade him from communicating with her, thinking him to be, in his own clouded opinion, "an irritable young rogue with nothing but trouble written across that unkempt face of his." She, however, would always find a way to escape her father's eagle eyes and meet up with the boy, and each time they grew closer and closer together.

Dipper and Wendy were completely engrossed in the film, making occasional comments and chortling heartily whenever something humorous occurred. The bowl of popcorn, having long since been spent, rested once more on the coffee table. The red haired girl gently squeezed the boy's hands and nuzzled deeper into the crook of his neck, blissfully content. Her reverie did not last long, however, as the stress and fatigue that she had staved off for much of the evening finally made its presence known. Wendy shifted uncomfortably in Dipper's arms and brought a hand to her left shoulder, rubbing it in an attempt to quell the aggravating aches that suddenly wracked through her upper body.

"Hey, you feeling alright?" Dipper asked, his voice full of concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she responded. "I'm just really stiff from work earlier today. Stan had me cleaning rooms at the Mystery Manor and had me take care of all the dishes. I barely had time to sit down."

Dipper chuckled softly, "Here, just relax. I can totally fix this." He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to massage them, working his fingers into her soft flesh with gentle circular motions. Wendy eased back into him and sighed delightfully. She could literally feel the stress melting away with each passing second. Dipper simply smiled lovingly at her as he continued his handiwork, putting all those years of piano and video game playing to a much more enjoyable use. Besides, it had always been a fantasy of his to touch her in this way, and had played it out over and over again just how he would do it.

The movie kept playing, but neither of the two birds paid it much attention. Roughly twenty minutes later, Dipper released his grip on Wendy's shoulders and rested his arms back down across her stomach.

"How do _you_ feel now?" he questioned.

"Mmmmmm...much better, but...I'm still feeling kinda tense..."

Wendy paused, looking up at him with the sweetest and most innocent-looking face she could possibly muster. "Hey, Dipper...?"

"Yes Wendy?"

"Will you do me a solid and massage my chest, please?"

Dipper's mouth fell open and his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets upon hearing her request. His heart rate accelerated alarmingly and the room seemed to jump several degrees in temperature. His mind spluttered and spat like an old radial aircraft engine as he attempted to process and digest the words she had just spoken. He simply could not believe what he had just heard her ask him to do.

_'She...wants me to...to massage her...massage her...her...'_

His gaze was now locked firmly onto Wendy's well-endowed upper torso. She looked impossibly soft and inviting, she radiated a feeling of sensual abundance.

_'...breasts...and it's a SOLID...Oh. Holy. Crap...'_

A sudden atomic thought blast sent Dipper's subconscious reeling. Fantastical images in the nature of things like steam locomotives, dirigibles, hope, the linotype machine, 1930's era open-wheeled racecars, soviet men with thick beards, an Antonov An-225 dragging several dozen telephone poles behind it, Old Man Horseshoes in his 1962 Lincoln Continental mowing down a man with a traffic signal for a head, an electrical box spewing fire from out its tiny door, pickle surprise, Bob Saget, a grotesque, gaping mouth with razor sharp teeth and a dozen or so clawed hands wearing a business suit, and a gigantic spring-loaded African mask scaring off a burglar. No amount of anything could ever come close to the onslaught of sheer joy-spurred images he was assaulted by.

The man attempted once more to organize his rampant thoughts into some semblance of sense. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Wendy had worded her incredibly sensual and intimate desire in the form of the most powerful and binding agreement in the known universe, and Dipper knew full well what would happen if he refused to complete it. He had to do it, and he wanted to do it, but try as he might, his hands refused to respond to the commands of his brain. They remained firmly in place around the woman's stomach. He tried to speak, but the words simply died on his tongue.

"I-I...well...uh..."

Wendy chuckled softly at his flabbergasted expression. She found him to be so irresistibly cute whenever he was flustered. The beautiful woman eased back and up onto him, tilting her head as far back as it would go. Her rich, pale colored spheres tugged plaintively up in the clutches of the dress, and did not help to suppress Dipper's thought process.

"Heehee, c'mon Dipper, massage my chest. You have to do it. It's a solid," she teased, pushing herself against him, narrowing her eyes and smiling alluringly at him. "Besides, it'll be sooooooo much fun and relaxing for the both of us."

Giggling seductively, she gently took hold of his hands.

"Here, let me give you a hand."

"Wait, Wendy, what are you...?"

Before Dipper could even register what was happening, Wendy had taken his hands and firmly cupped them over her ample bosom. She let out a sharp gasp as his grip tightened instinctively.

The man was completely stunned. The feel of silky fabric from her dress, coupled with the soft, luscious globes of her breasts which now pressed against his palms and fingers, sent his mind into a high-altitude flat spin.

'...Oooooooooohhhhhhhhh...mmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyy...'

Time seemed to decelerate, the next few seconds feeling like an endless eternity. His head was filled with glimmering, pulsating gold. She was soft. She was so soft. He could never have imagined a more beautifully soft surface to touch. She crooned in a whispery voice as he very slowly pressed harder. A new sensation gradually washed over him, an unbelievably profound and wonderful feeling of raw, unadulterated joy. The unexpected closeness he and Wendy now shared with each other was unlike anything he had ever experienced in the entirety of his twenty year life, and it felt absolutely incredible. Dipper found himself regaining control over his senses, and his mind was suddenly devoid of unstructured chaos and commotion. He smiled deeply, his face radiating with unabashed happiness and warmth.

"Dipper..." she quavered, pressing his hands deeper against her chest, sending a delicious wave of pleasure coursing through her body. "Please Dipper? Please?"

Dipper fought an intense battle inside his own head with all the sides of himself. Each different aspect of his consciousness and morality sat around a round table and threw napkins, plates, anvils, railway signals and severed heads at each other, shouting uproariously. The more adamant, unabashed side began to win out after the others ran out of such objects to throw.

The subconscious firefight having finally ceased, Dipper smiled even wider than before.

Everything made crystal clear sense to him now; any and all apprehension now completely vanished from his person. He looked at Wendy with an expression of absolute adoration, gazing deep into her lovely green eyes.

"I'd love to, Wendy," he stated sincerely. "Anything for you."

With that, Dipper happily gave into her request, his hands and fingers deftly working her robust cleavage with tender, rhythmic strokes, squeezing them, kneading them through the soft, delicate fabric of her dress. Wendy gasped and cooed as he rounded all over and across her chest, her entire body shuddering as unfathomable waves of sweet, satisfying pleasure overtook her senses.

"Ohhhhh...Dipper...*gasp*...Dipper...mmmmhhhhh..."

She closed her eyes, completely under the spell of his actions, arching her back and wrapping her arms around his neck. The feeling was magical, ethereal, heavenly. Mere words could barely describe just exactly how amazing his touch felt. He loved, adored her mass of completely muscle-less, sensual flesh, which otherwise she had no control over. It was as if this well-guarded part of her existed only for him to please her with. She had never been treated to such a wonderful sensation before. It was pure and absolute ecstasy, and she never wanted the wonderful, exhilarating feeling to end.

As the minutes passed, Dipper found himself getting very much interested in the way Wendy was responding to his sensuous massage, and he experimented with a variety of hand and finger motions, trying to determine which ones gave her the most pleasure and satisfaction. His facial features conveyed nothing but complete love and dedication as he rested his chin upon her right shoulder, nuzzling the side of her head ever so slightly. He loved the way her firm yet malleable breasts molded and conformed perfectly to the contours of his hands and digits. It felt as if he was holding onto the very clouds themselves, able to squeeze and manipulate them in any way he desired. Dipper soon found that Wendy was incredibly sensitive in certain places around her chest, and whenever he would hit one of those tender spots she would gasp and moan wildly, her curvy frame pulsating with spasms of intense joy. He relished in her moans and squeals of pleasure, and would fixate on those spots which made her voice her sensitivity the most. He also enjoyed the way she leaned her head against him, and the way she lovingly caressed his hair. The combination of actions filled the boy's head with wonderful new feelings of passion, desire, and wanting.

A half-hour or more flew by and still the two people remained where they were on the couch, bathed in the electric blue glow of the television set. The movie had long since ended, but neither of them cared about that anymore. They were both completely and utterly engulfed in the sensuous and wondrous experience they now shared with one another.

"Oh, *gasp* D-Dipper...this feels...mmmmmm...this feels sooooooo *gasp* so good!" Wendy cooed passionately.

Dipper let out a devilishly affectionate laugh. "I love making you feel good, Wendy. It's all I ever want to do." She giggled seductively.

"Mmmmmm...I love it when you make me feel good."

"Well, that's because I love you."

Wendy gasped loudly, her cheeks suddenly painted a hue of rose quartz as the words he uttered implanted themselves firmly in her cerebellum.

Those three words...

Those three little words...

Dipper barely had time to react as Wendy suddenly turned her entire body around, wrapping her arma firmly around his neck and gently pressing her lips to his in a passionate, heartfelt, and loving kiss.

For a split second, Dipper was paralyzed, unable to move, but the shock dissipated as quickly as it arrived, intense feelings of euphoria and bliss rushing in to fill the void left in its wake. He kissed her back, closing his eyes as his arms looped tightly around her curvaceous waist, pulling her as close to him as possible, savoring the feel of her soft lips against his. The girl moaned in satisfaction as they deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing playfully with one another inside their mouths, lavishing in each other's unique and exotic taste. After a minute or two, the two lovers broke the kiss, gasping for much-needed oxygen. Wendy gazed at Dipper with an adorable and heartwarming smile.

"I love you too, Dipper," she told him sweetly and sincerely, before kissing him deeply once more.

They kissed and made out for several minutes, fuelled by raw passion and the love they had for one another. Wendy was still awash with unimaginable pleasure from Dipper's intensely intimate massage session, pleasure which did not go away. In fact, it only exponentiated as she and him continued to kiss, and from it stemmed new and even more powerful feelings, ones of incredible longing, desire, lust, wanting, and arousal. She wanted his love, needed his love, desired his love. She wanted to feel his love for her, not just emotionally, but physically.

Wendy broke away from Dipper's lips and looked at him with a sweet, sultry smile.

"Mmmmmmm...Dipper, that massage was incredible. I've never felt this good before. You really know how to turn a girl on." She giggled seductively and began to kiss his neck, causing him to gasp slightly.

"I've been saving myself, just for you," she added alluringly, her lips still planting soft kisses up and down his neck. "I want you, Dipper. I want you to make love to me."

Wendy slowly extricated herself from the man's embrace and stood up, grabbing Dipper's hands and pulling him up off the couch and back up against her, kissing him feverently. She giggled sweetly as he scooped her up into his arms, their lips still locked together in passion as she placed her hands around his neck for support. Holding her gently, he carried Wendy away from the couch and out of the living room, making his way back towards the slightly cracked door which framed the entrance to her bedroom.

Rays of moonlight filtered calmly through the curtained windows lining both sides of Wendy's queen-sized four poster bed, painting the cozy little space in a serene, nebulous glow as Dipper gently creaked the door open with his right foot, passing through the oak-lined portal with the voluptuous red robin cradled safely in his arms, and closing it quietly behind him. He strode over to her bedside and gently deposited her onto the rich, inviting checkerboard of white and lapis lazuli, resting her head comfortably against one of the matching pillows before settling down on top of her, kissing her intensely and running his hands all around and across her dress-clad chest and stomach. Wendy shivered in delight under his intimate touch, gasping sharply as he trailed his lips up and down her neck. They rolled over, and now she was lying on top of him, her lips kissing and nibbling his neck, returning his actions. Dipper relished in the squalor of intense and wonderful pleasure which was building to an incredible fever pitch with each passing second of foreplay. They remained this way for a few minutes, kissing, holding, and rubbing each other sensuously, until Wendy extracted herself from his hold and sauntered over to the foot of her bed, her hips swaying seductively as she did so.

Dipper knew exactly what she was about to do, and it only made him desire and want her more than ever. In slow motion, Wendy reached behind her back and clasped the small black zipper which held up her dress, drawing it down in one fluid sweep of her arm.

The fabric cascaded down her curvy figure, revealing translucent, silky, strapless lingerie colored a lovely shade of violet. She flicked the dress away with her feet and immediately removed her undergarments, casting them aside without a care as to where they landed. Wendy stood before him, skyclad, her skin shimmering in the gentle caress of moonlight. She assumed an incredibly sexy pose, resting her hands on her hips and giggling.

"Well, how do I look?" she asked huskily, a sweet smile crowning her lovely face.

Dipper had to stifle a gasp as his eyes traveled up and down the woman's unclothed figure, drinking in every inch of her exquisitely curved and sculpted form; her beautiful face, her soft chest, her trim, petite abdomen, her delicious legs. She was gorgeous, an Aphrodite, the picture of pure and absolute female perfection. The scene before him was something he had only viewed previously within the confines of his deepest sexual fantasies, only this time; it was astoundingly and wonderfully real.

"Like a goddess," Dipper told her truthfully. "Wendy, never in my life have I seen a creature as rare and beautiful as you are." She blushed and giggled, her face beaming with pure and complete happiness and love.

"Oh Dipper, you're so sweet," she cooed seductively. "Alright, now it's your turn."

Not wasting a second, he quickly shed his dress shirt, pants and tie, throwing them to the floor. It was Wendy's turn to hold back a gasp as her eyes moved up and down his figure, putting a hand to up to her mouth and blushing once more. She had seen him in only his trunks numerous times before, but tonight, the circumstances were much, much different, and it was quite apparent to her that he was just as turned on as she was. A devilish smile crept across her face.

'Oh wow...Dipper...oh, you don't know how much I'm going to enjoy this.'

Wendy returned to the bed and set herself on top of Dipper, straddling him as he drew the thick, patterned covers up, over, and on top of them, its weight gently pressing them down into each other. She kissed him deeply, their tongues dueling inside their mouths as he ran his arms freely up and down her back. The feel of her bare form and her soft, flesh against his, coupled with the way she moved her hands all over and across his chest and back was absolutely divine. Dipper gently rolled her over and broke the kiss, gazing down at her lovingly as he readied himself, about to prove to the robin his complete and undying love for her in the most special and intimate manner known to exist.

"Are you sure you're ready to do this, Wendy?"

"Yes Dipper, I'm ready," the girl responded tenderly. "I've been dreaming of this moment ever since that day when I first realized I loved you. I want to cherish and remember this special night forever, with you."

Dipper smiled warmly and lowered himself back down onto her as their embrace tightened, his lips meeting hers in a fiery kiss. With one gentle, fluid motion, the two lovers made that final, fulfilling leap together, and united their bodies in love, departing forevermore from the dreary, lonesome shores of loneliness and out into an endless, infinite sea of deep, wondrous intimacy. All at once, the great and mysterious workings of the heavens above, the earth, the moon, the stars, planets, and galaxies, the very fabric of time and space itself, suddenly seemed to cease in their endless, perpetual motion as they reveled in the incredible feeling of their confluence.

They moved together in perfect synchronicity, falling into a steady rhythm. Dipper ran his hands all around Wendy's luscious form as he kissed her with unrelenting fervor, his mouth slowly migrating down her neck and onto her firm, supple chest. Wendy moaned and purred, submitting completely to his wonderful, hypnotic motions as she rounded all over him, wave after wave of rich, deliciously satisfying pleasure spreading all throughout her perfect figure. Her cries of unrestrained, sensuous joy were sweet, invigorating music to the man's ears as he explored her curves, making her quaver and spasm wildly against him. Dipper and Wendy could feel themselves reaching their absolute limit with each passing moment of ecstasy, the dams which held back their pent up sexual energy for years slowly succumbing to the joyous forces of their lovemaking. Moments later, the barriers finally gave way. Wendy gasped and squealed, gripping Dipper tightly and completely as they reached that incredible first peak together, their bodies shuddering under the massive force of a long and powerful torrent of overwhelming, satisfying release.

The feeling was indescribable, incomprehensible; something beyond their wildest and most vivid and memorable of dreams. It was pure and absolute sexual Nirvana. The massage session undoubtedly paled in comparison to the harmonious experience they were now taking part of.

Dipper and Wendy fell back into each other, he landing on top of her, pushing her down into the bedding with his full weight, panting heavily from the effects of their climax, pressing their lips together in heated passion as they continued to make sweet, wonderful love together. They rolled and shifted underneath the bedspread, kissing, fondling, groping, stroking, and rubbing all around, over, and across each other's bodies, gasping, moaning, giggling, and cooing under the intoxicating sensations of lust and pleasure. The love they had for one another was unlike any that could ever be described in all the known scribed and spoken languages on this green earth. It transcended the very forces of nature and defied the clockworks of the great celestial mechanism which bound the heavens to structured, regular order. The lovers reached a second pinnacle, shockwaves rippling throughout their bodies as they gasped and cried out in pleasure.

An hour or more passed, and still Wendy and Dipper remained together, moving in time to a wonderful rhythm of intimate action. Five times they had peaked together, and even though both of them never wanted this moment to end, they were beginning to grow extremely tired; the sexual energy which fuelled their intimate exploits gradually waning. Once more their passion reached a final, powerful outburst and they finished together. Wendy squirmed and cried out with pleasurable delight as her lithe frame bucked and gyrated under the tremendous magnitude of her release, collapsing on top of Dipper's chest and kissing him deeply. They held each other tenderly, their breathing sharp and heavy as they bathed together in the warm and wonderful afterglow.

"Dipper...oh my god...Dipper...that was...that was so incredible!" Wendy panted euphorically, nuzzling into his chest, his soothing warmth spreading throughout her body.

"I know...," gasped Dipper, breathless. "I've never felt...felt so good." He pulled her closer against his chest and planted a tender kiss on her forehead, his right hand stroking the back of her head with soft, gentle motions. "Weeeenndy." He relished the name in his mouth like a delicate piece of fruit.

"Mmmmmmm...neither have I," purred the girl. She flashed him a mischievous smirk and giggled. "I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough of you, Dipper. I can't wait to do it again." She began kissing his neck.

"In fact, I want to make love with you as often as possible."

"Is that so?" he asked, chuckling slyly. "I could get used to that. Y'know Wendy, you do owe me a solid." She looked up at him with a sultry smile, giving him several quick pecks on the lips. "Mmhmmmm...that I do...anything you have in mind, perhaps?" she inquired playfully, running her hands across his chest without restrain.

"Ohohohohooo...I'll think of something soon enough, don't you worry about that," smirked the man. "However, I can still do this..." He quickly rolled Wendy over and kissed her fiercely, tongues entwining and frolicking together inside their mouths as he ran his hands all over her pert breasts, enticing short moans of pleasure from her. A minute later he broke the hold, burying his face in her chest as she giggled softly. Dipper's warm, compassionate gaze soon met hers, his hands gingerly caressing her rosy cheeks.

"I love you so very much, Wendy," he told her sincerely, with all of his caring heart and soul. Tears of happiness formed in the girls beautiful green eyes as she kissed him with all her love and passion.

"I love you too, Dipper," she smiled radiantly as he gently wiped away her tears.

They kissed passionately once more, trying to further stave off the exhaustion which began to consume their bodies. It was obvious to them, however, that they were fighting a losing battle.

No longer wanting to resist the welcoming presence of much desired rest, the two new lovers turned over a final time. Wendy rested her head against Dipper's chest, sighing contentedly in his warm, safe, and wonderful arms as they cuddled close and pulled the covers snugly around them. Their breathing shallowed, chests rising and falling together in perfect synchronicity.

"Goodnight, my beautiful lady," Dipper crooned lovingly, kissing her forehead. Wendy giggled softly.

"Goodnight, my handsome man," she replied sweetly.

Under the covers of the warm and inviting bed, inside the cozy little room painted in ethereal lunar glow, Dipper and Wendy lay snuggled up blissfully in each other's arms, recalling the memories of this wonderful, magical night which they shared together, waiting for the soothing winds of sleep to catch their sails and guide them safely beyond the horizon line, away from the shores of the waking world and out into the calm and peaceful realm of dreams. In the span of a single night, their lives were forever changed in the most wondrous and amazing way possible. They were now whole, complete, two souls in one, eternally entwined; and even though the roads of a welcoming new life ahead lie shrouded in the fog of uncertainty and unpredictability, the absolute and inextinguishable love they now shared together would always show them the way, lighting brilliant, everlasting fires of hope within their hearts.

...and to think, it all began with the most unusual of requests.


	11. Godzilla

The sun was setting as the C-17 approached the city at an altitude of 35,000 feet, which was believed to be safely above the Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organisms' sphere of influence. Seated in the cargo bay with the other troops, Dipper Pines assumed there had been some evidence to support that assumption. Even so, he caught himself holding his breath as the plane came over the city. Crashing the Globemaster into the middle of downtown wasn't going to do anyone any good.

The low bass hum of the plane's engines continued uninterrupted, at least for the present. Dipper chose to take that as a good sign as he peered out a window at their destination. Thick black smoke and heavy cloud cover largely hid the city below, but he could dimly make out immense shapes grappling in the haze. It appeared that the monsters were already locked in mortal combat. They charged at each other like divine beasts out of myth and legend.

_Good,_ Dipper thought. _Maybe they'll keep each other occupied while we deal with the warhead._

He removed the family portrait from his pocket and contemplated it one last time. The Pines Family as they once were, as he and Wendy and their daughter, Andrea could still be, if they survived the perilous hours ahead. It felt as though, one way or another, the unbearable trial that had tested his family for fifteen years was finally coming to a close. He hoped that, against all odds, they could still arrive at a happy ending somewhere down the line.

Glancing around, he saw that the other HALO jumpers were each preparing themselves in their own way. Photos of loved ones were cherished and heads were bowed in prayer or meditation. Everyone appeared deep in thought, searching for the courage and will to do what needed to be done, as well as remembering why exactly it mattered so very much. Across from Dipper, a redheaded young soldier prayed softly to himself, reading aloud from a pocket Bible:

"… now as we leave one another, remember the comrades who are not with us today. 'And He will send His angels with great trumpets.'"

The loadmaster's booming voice roused everyone from their private thoughts.

"One minute, one more time!" he announced. "No comms at all down below. Use your flares to stay together!"

The rear bay doors opened and a ferocious rush of air drowned out any further discussion. Row by row, the HALO jumpers rose from their seats and headed briskly toward the ramp. The first in line ignited their flares and leapt out of the plane.

_Here we go,_ Dipper thought.

Dipper returned the photo to his pocket and got his oxygen mask in place. HALO stood for High Altitude, Low Opening, which made the breathing apparatus a must. Joining the line, he made his way toward the ramp. Despite his resolve, he felt more than a flicker of trepidation. He was a Navy bomb disposal tech, not a Special Forces guy. He didn't have a lot of experience with HALO jumps.

He didn't hesitate when his turn came, however. Sucking down a deep breath of O2, he threw himself out of the plane… for Wendy's sake.

The roaring in his ears went away, and the world went strangely quiet. All that could be heard was the thin air whistling faintly above the clouds. He extended his arms and legs to slow his fall, as he'd been instructed, while accelerating toward terminal velocity. Dozens of paratroopers free-fell through the darkening sky. Blood-red smoke trailed from the blazing flares strapped to their ankles as they descended toward the embattled city like falling angels, minus the trumpets. Lightning flashed in the turbulent clouds and smoke below. Thunder rumbled, but Dipper had no idea if it was coming from the storm or the clashing monsters or some dreadful combination thereof. His own flare ignited as he plunged into the clouds.

Falling at nearly 125 miles per hour, he passed quickly through the clammy mist, somehow managing to avoid being electrocuted by a random bolt of lightning. The downtown area—or what was left of it—came into view. The devastation was staggering. Describing Godzilla may seem simple, just some large dinosaur that's over hundred meters seemed easy enough to say, but there was more to the ancient being that humanity just stared at amazement and fear.

His true name was Gojira in Japanese, though it properly translated in English pretty well. Japanese mythology described the creature as a combination of a gorilla and whale, a mythical beast that roams the Pacific waters while old tribes in the neighboring islands of the Pacific used to sacrifice people to ward off Gojira so he remains in deep slumber. But the beast of mythology was now a beast of fact, now decimating the once prosperous city of San Francisco, making it nothing more than a battlefield of Titans.

Godzilla's very appearance struck the hearts of the brave soldiers free falling, especially to Dipper since they had heard only rumors of Godzilla. But here he was, an ancient dinosaur still in it's prime, even after millions of years in slumber, the creature still managed to maintain an omniscient presence, even just by mentioning his name alone.

Godzilla's mass rivaled those of the MUTOs, since he had an extremely muscular body, his black hide covered in thick, rough, crocodile like scales, able to withstand multiple blows of the MUTO's attacks, despite having such a bulky body, the beast could still move quickly enough to strike devastating blows to his foes with his sharp claws and powerful jaws, his back and tail were lined up with straight and sharp dorsal plates, retaining a maple leaf shape to them, while the behemoth's face had an ancient but still threatening look, focusing his furious reptilian glare at the MUTO foes, with fire burning in his eyes, determined to destroy the MUTO menace while all the human soldiers could do was ignore the monster threat, feeling like all they were now are ants compared to the true giants that fought before them, who were more than just lumbering beasts who wander the earth and cause destruction with no purpose.

They were Gods. And what he'd already witnessed overseas, Dipper was shocked by what he saw as he free fell.

A giant sinkhole, much like the one in Japan, had swallowed Chinatown. A wide path of destruction, like the one in Hawaii, had torn across The Embarcadero to Telegraph Hill, where Godzilla and the male MUTO could be glimpsed fighting amidst crumbling high-rises and residential buildings. Clouds of smoke and dust billowed up from the war zone. Fires blazed within the demolished buildings. As in Honolulu, Godzilla had the advantage of size over the other monster, but the male appeared in no hurry to retreat this time. The winged creature was standing its ground, with the surrounding neighborhoods paying the price. Angry snarls and screeches were punctuated by crashing buildings. Thunderclaps, reverberating overhead, provided a percussive soundtrack to the cataclysmic tussle, whose outcome seemed far from certain. It was survival of the fittest—on a grandiose scale.

Dipper dropped between rows of buildings that blocked his view of the battling monsters. He tugged on his ripcord and was yanked upward as his main canopy deployed. A square, "ram-air" parafoil inflated above him and he used the steering toggles to come in for a landing on a rubble-strewn street somewhere in the ruins of the Financial District. He touched down with an awkward stutter-step onto the cracked and broken pavement, without actually falling or breaking anything, and stumbled to a halt.

_Whew,_ he thought. _Made it._

He was relieved to be back on solid ground again. Tugging off his oxygen mask, he took a deep breath of real air, which smelled of smoke and ash. He glanced around warily, but did not spy any monsters in his immediate vicinity. Smashed skyscrapers jutting up from the ravaged streets suggested that the monsters had already passed through this district, leaving little intact. Night had fallen so that only the glow from scattered fires illuminated the darkened city. From the sound of things, however, the beasts were still raging several blocks away. It dawned on him that he'd had yet to see the female MUTO, the one that had attacked the missile train. He had to assume that it was abroad as well.

_Better keep my eyes out for that bitch,_ he thought.

Shedding his parachute, which was draped over the rubble, he hastily rescued a rifle and flashlight from his gear bag and fitted the light to the barrel of his gun. A gust of wind blew aside the voluminous nylon canopy, exposing charred human bodies lying amidst the debris, half-buried beneath fallen chunks of masonry. A blackened arm stretched lifelessly from beneath a mass of crumbling concrete and rebar.

_More collateral damage,_ Dipper realized, of the timeless feud between Godzilla and the MUTOs. He winced at the sight, wondering briefly whom the burned bodies had belonged to and what families would mourn them, but he also knew that the death rate would skyrocket unless he and his comrades completed their mission and disarmed the stolen warhead. He had to keep moving.

Anxious to reconnect with the others, Dipper looked up and down the damaged and deserted streets. The unsettling darkness failed to mask the extreme damage done to his hometown. Once known as "The Wall Street of the West," the Financial District now looked as though the Big One had finally hit. Gleaming towers of glass and steel, built to withstand all but the most powerful earthquakes, were now smoking husks. A toppled skyscraper leaned precarious against its neighbor. Broken glass, mangled steel beams, and crumbling blocks on concrete littered the streets and sidewalks. Elevated sky-bridges had crashed to earth. The Transamerica Pyramid, once the tallest structure in the city, was missing its tip and several of its upper stories. Abandoned cars, trucks, and buses had been crushed by falling debris.

Dipper stared aghast at the devastation. The monsters had done all this—in less than an hour?

A titanic roar jolted him back to the crisis at hand. Dipper spotted more soldiers running up a street one block over. He hustled after them, readying his gear on the run. A rifle hadn't done him much good against the female up in the mountains, but he sure as hell wasn't going to go up against the creatures unarmed. Better to go down fighting if he had to.

Panting, he caught up with several other soldiers. An EOD specialist named Gabe was busily assembling a device that resembled a Geiger counter, while the other soldiers conferred tersely, comparing notes on what they'd seen on the way down. Dipper figured that some of them were still coming to grips with laying eyes on the monsters for the first time.

Gabe finished assembling the tracking device. It started clacking immediately, especially when he pointed it up toward Chinatown, where the warhead was reported to be.

"We're moving up the hill," their jumpmaster said gruffly. "Keep it spread out. Move out!"

The soldiers took only a moment to get their bearings before jogging up Grant Avenue. Within minutes, they passed through the ruins of the "Dragon Gate" at the southern entrance to Chinatown. Fallen ceramic tiles shattered beneath their boots, while the head of one of the gateway's two guardian dragons stared up from the rubble. Advancing into the heart of Chinatown, they hurried past trampled shops, temples, banks, and restaurants. An upended cable car lay on its side, squashed bodies spilling out of it. A street lamp crafted to resemble a bright red pagoda leaned precariously over the obliterated avenue. Colorful flags and banners lay trampled on the ground. As they neared the crest of the hill, the infernal orange glow of an unseen fire could be seen through a dense wall of smoke. The veiled flames, and the clacking of the tracking device, drew the troops on.

_Getting warmer,_ Dipper thought. _Let's hope we don't run into any company._

One by one, the soldiers warily entered the haze. Dipper found his visibility cut almost to zero and relied on the flashlight mounted on his rifle to pierce the smoke. He aimed the beam at the ground before him to keep his footing, but then his flashlight dimmed. He smacked it with his palm, hoping to restore it, but the beam kept flickering. By now, Dipper knew that meant.

A MUTO was near.

He wasn't the only soldier experiencing technical difficulties or aware of their significance. He spied other flashlights sputtering in the smoke. Alert troops hefted their weapons and took cover behind wrecked and overturned cars. Dipper darted behind a crushed SUV. The jump master, Quinn, whistled and put a finger to his lips, signaling quiet.

_Damn right,_ Dipper thought. The last thing they wanted to do was attract a monster's attention.

But while the rest of them kept quiet, the tracking device was clacking louder than ever. Dipper flinched at the racket as Gabe aimed the device straight ahead at the smoke and flames. He nodded at Quinn, who got the message.

The warhead was close.

The wall of smoke thinned out, revealing the female crouched above the giant sinkhole Dipper had spotted from above. An involuntary shudder went through Dipper; the last time he'd seen this creature, it had been tearing apart the bridge and locomotive in the mountains, sending his comrades Nate, Lee and others to their deaths. It hadn't gotten any less terrifying in the interim. Its six lower limbs straddled the pit, while its smaller forearms were still large enough to qualify as enormous. Drool dripped from its beak. Its bony carapace caught the glare from the fires. Lightning flashed overhead; Dipper wondered again if the MUTO was somehow causing it.

Hunkered down behind the available cover, the troops shared frustrated looks. The warhead was apparently down in the sinkhole somewhere, but how were they supposed to get past the female to reach it? Dipper glanced at his ticking wristwatch. Time was running out.

Now what?

Dipper was stumped, uncertain how to proceed, when booming footsteps shook the night. The thunderous tread triggered immediate flashbacks to Honolulu Airport—and his first sight of an even more colossal monster than the MUTO guarding the pit. The ground shook beneath Dipper. Looking back, he already knew what he was going to see.

Godzilla lumbered toward them, cresting the hill behind them. His eyes narrowed as he spied the female. He dropped into a defensive crouch, like a fighter preparing for battle. He threw back his head and roared loud enough that Dipper's heavy-duty helmet provided no protection at all. There was no mistaking the primordial fury in that roar; Dipper realized in horror that he and the other soldiers were stuck between the two monsters.

The female responded to the challenge with a defiant howl of its own. It sprang from the sinkhole and skittered across the ruins to face Godzilla. Endangered troopers dashed out of the way of her great, clawed limbs. Dipper saw a hind leg crashing down toward him and dived for safety only seconds before it flattened the crumpled SUV he had been hiding behind. Rolling across the broken pavement, he saw the MUTO slam into Godzilla with extreme force. Grappling furiously, they tumbled down the hill, disappearing into the smoke and fog.

This is our chance, Dipper realized.

The soldiers sprinted toward the unguarded sinkhole, peering down over its rim. The size and depth of the pit was even more impressive up close; it was possibly even bigger than the sinkhole that had swallowed the nuclear power plant in Japan. At least a block of homes and buildings appeared to have fallen into the pit. Dipper did not relish climbing the crumbling, debris-strewn slope in search of the missing warhead. Fires burned down in the stygian depths of the abyss. Smoke rose from below.

Gabe employed his tracker. Rapid clacking pointed the troops toward an open fissure leading down into the side of the sinkhole. A hellish orange glow emanated from what looked like small cave opening. Dipper felt the heat of burning wreckage as the soldiers cautiously ventured through the entrance and found themselves inside an uprooted Victorian row house, hanging upside-down from its foundations. An inverted staircase looked like something out of an M.C. Escher drawing. Tinny music issued from an antique music box lying sideways on the ceiling. Dipper felt as though he'd stepped through the looking-glass into some sort of surreal fever-dream.

_This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,_ he thought. _I can barely remember what normal is anymore._

The troops hurried through the capsized house and out an open doorway. Leaving the bizarre setting behind, they found themselves faced with an infernal vista that could have easily passed for the lower pits of Hell. A huge cavernous burrow had been carved out beneath Chinatown, littered with debris from the ransacked city above. Bits and pieces of the city were strewn about randomly. An overturned gasoline tanker was partially buried in the rubble. A bronze dragon guarded heaps of broken refuse. A church steeple lay on its side.

They descended to the floor of the cavern. Thankfully, their flashlights were working better now that the female had charged off to fight Godzilla. Bright white beams soon located a huge organic shape hanging like a stalactite from the ceiling above them. It took Ford and the others a moment to realize that they had found what they were searching for: the nuclear warhead was encased inside layers of a hardened, translucent secretion. The outermost layers of the shell were still wet and viscous. They oozed slowly down the sides of the trapped weapon.

Dipper gazed up at the suspended warhead. He could only assume that the male had brought his prize to the female, perhaps as some sort of courtship ritual. No doubt those scientists back at base would have a theory to explain how it all worked, but Dipper didn't care about that right now. All that mattered was disarming the bomb before the detonator went off.

_At least we've found it,_ he thought hopefully. _Perhaps we still have a chance._

A tremor shook the cavern, causing dust and gravel to rain down on them. It felt like an earthquake, but Dipper knew better. The earth was shaking because of the titanic conflict being waged above. Godzilla had hunted the MUTOs halfway around the world, but now the chase was over and the final battle was underway.

With a nuclear warhead added to the mix.

* * *

Godzilla clashed with the female in the blazing ruins of the Financial District. Sky-high smoke and flames provided an apocalyptic backdrop to their savage combat, which was being fought furiously amidst the demolished skyscrapers. Godzilla snapped and slashed at the female, who locked her jaws onto his scaly shoulder. The mighty saurian towered at least fifty feet above the vicious, multi-legged parasite and was significantly heavier and stronger as well, but female did not back off. Grimacing in pain, Godzilla tore himself free from the MUTO's fangs and spun away from her. His spiked tail whipped around to lash the female, who was sent tumbling down Broadway, carving out another swath of destruction. Her flailing arms and legs smashed through buildings large and small. Flames and explosions erupted in her wake.

Sensing victory, Godzilla closed in for the kill. The desperate female hurriedly righted herself and swung one of her clawed middle arms at Godzilla, but he dodged the attack and charged forward to pin her against a high-rise office building. The MUTO thrashed and screeched as Godzilla pummeled her with his fists and snapped at her twisting head and thorax. His jaws were going for her skull when the entire building suddenly collapsed under the force of the struggle. A mountain of sundered steel and concrete caved in on the female, burying her beneath the debris.

Snarling, Godzilla loomed above his fallen foe. He raised his right foot over the female, preparing to squash her into the ground, when the male came swooping down from the sky to defend his mate. The winged MUTO barreled into Godzilla, knocking him off his feet. Locked in combat, the monsters rolled across the district, grinding landmark buildings into dust. Their growls and screeches were matched by the rumble of disintegrating hotels, banks, and museums.

The earth shook all the way up to Chinatown.

The seismic shocks were coming fast and furious, causing the entire cavern to tremble and heaps of debris to shift in an unsettling manner, but Dipper and the other soldiers redoubled their efforts to liberate the ticking warhead from the hard, resin-like substance it was encased in. They had already managed to break the weapon loose from the ceiling and lower it to the floor of the cavern; now they were chipping away at the sticky secretion with the butts of their rifles. Concentrating on the tip of the re-entry vehicle, they managed to expose enough of the casing that, grunting with effort, they could begin to pry off the nose cone.

_Here it comes_, Dipper thought. _Almost there…_

To his surprise, the remaining secretion began to pulse with light. Did we trigger that with our hammering, Dipper wondered, or was it the tremors? The cool effulgence grew in intensity and began to spread throughout the cavern. The soldiers backed away momentarily, caught off-guard by the unexpected bioluminescence. The glow rippled upward to light up the entire cavern. Dipper glanced at the ceiling, where the wavering light now appeared to be concentrated, and gasped in shock.

No longer hidden in darkness, thousands of bulging egg sacs hung from the ceiling, which was positively encrusted with the pulsing organisms. Dipper recalled the photos shown to him upon the Saratoga as well as the egg he had briefly glimpsed on the underside of the female MUTO in the mountains. As nearly as he could tell, these new sacs were identical to the ones found in the Philippines fifteen years ago. The ones that had eventually spawned the two MUTOs.

They've already mated, he realized, and this is their nest.

The fertilized eggs continued to flash, as though reacting to their food source being disturbed. Something had to be done about the eggs, Dipper knew, but first they needed to deal with the warhead or nothing else mattered.

The nose cone came loose, clattering onto the floor of the nest. The soldiers huddled around the exposed warhead and detonator. Flashlight beams penetrated the small window above the timing mechanism. The intricate gears continued to turn and engage, ticking down to Armageddon. Moving carefully, despite the urgency of the situation, the men took hold of the warhead by a set of metal handholds and eased it out of the cone-shaped reentry vehicle.

_Easy does it,_ Dipper thought.

Godzilla was outnumbered two to one. Acting in tandem, the MUTOs circled their relentless foe, who was undaunted by the odds against him. His eyes narrowed in anticipation of the parasites' attack. His nostrils flared and he bared his fangs. He roared defiantly, challenging the MUTOs. He had not come all this way to shrink from the battle.

The MUTOs were prey. Dangerous prey, but prey regardless. They had to be destroyed.

Howling in unison, the MUTOs pounced on him from above and below.

* * *

A tremor shook the subway platform, causing dust and debris to rain down from the ceiling. Trapped underground, while giant monsters overran the city above, Wendy Corduroy-Pines and throng of other frightened people backed away fearfully from the thunderous impact. A baby cried in the arms of a young couple who huddled together fearfully, protecting the child with their own bodies.

Alone and scared, Wendy didn't know whether to envy them for being together or to be thankful that Andrea was hopefully far from the embattled city by now. Probably a little bit of both.

She squinted at her phone. There were no new messages from Dipper, not that she was likely to get a signal down here. She hoped to God that he was safe and on his way to find her. But would there still be a city left by the time he got here? It sounded like armies were clashing up above.

The lights flickered overhead and her phone died. People gasped and looked up in alarm as the lights sputtered and died, throwing them all into the dark. Panicked people screamed. Blackness swallowed them, so that all that was left was fear—and the earth-shaking sound of monsters destroying the city.

_Be careful, Dipper,_ she thought. _Wherever you are._

* * *

The soldiers lowered the heavy warhead onto the floor of the nest. Divorced from its massive rocket boosters, the warhead was still at least ten feet long and five across. On closer inspection, it was obvious that the casing had been badly damaged during its travails. Gabe tried to pry open the access panel to the timer, but the metal was warped and refused to budge. Quinn and a few of the others added their strength to his, but it was no use. The latch was jammed.

"It's sealed shut," Gabe said. "We need time to get this open!"

"We don't have time," another soldier objected. "Let's haul it out of here!"

Dipper shoved his way to the front of the huddle and knelt down beside the warhead. He extracted a kit from a Velcro pocket on his flight suit. He unsealed the kit to expose a set of intricate tools, including screw drivers, crimpers, surgical scissors, forceps, tweezers, and a dental mirror. They were similar to the tools he had used to disarm any number of explosive devices in Iraq and Afghanistan. He had never used them on a nuclear bomb before, but…

"I can do it!" he insisted. "Just give me some light!"

Flashlight beams converged on the latch, providing a steady white light that Dipper vastly preferred to the rippling glow of the agitated egg sacs. He tried to tune out the pulsing bioluminescence, and the rumble of the warring monsters, to concentrate on the task at hand. The warhead was the primary threat now. Everything else, even Godzilla, was secondary.

_I can do this,_ he thought._ I have to do this._

* * *

The city trembled as Godzilla dropped to one knee, besieged by the MUTOs. The parasites' combined assault was enough to stagger even the mighty leviathan. The male dived at him from above, gouging Godzilla's dorsal fins with his claws. Broken shards of fin rained down onto the pulverized streets, adding to the heaped debris, even as the female sprang at Godzilla, slashing at his throat with her talons, which sliced through his scaly armor to the vulnerable flesh below. Blood seeped through the bony plates. The female howled triumphantly.

Godzilla reeled beneath the joint attack, but did not fall. His maw opened wide and, choking and gasping, he exhaled a gust of rippling, super-heated vapor. A spark ignited at the back of his throat and a searing blast of blue-white fire sprayed from his jaws.

Taking the full force of the Godzilla's volcanic breath, the female screeched in agony and collapsed in a heap of twitching arms and legs. Her chitinous exoskeleton was scorched and blackened in places. Ichor leaked from cracks in her shell. Eight limbs vibrated spastically. She wasn't dead, but she had been hurt and stunned by the blistering incendiary attack. Unable to defend herself, at least for the moment, she was ripe for the kill.

Godzilla climbed back to his feet, like a mountain thrusting up from the earth, and glared at the downed female. He opened his jaws once more, intending to incinerate her completely, but as his fiery breath flared up the male flew in low overhead and clapped his iridescent black wings together. A luminous pulse rippled through the air and snuffed the bioelectric spark in Godzilla's throat. The draconic flames belching from his jaws sputtered and died out.

Godzilla blinked in confusion. Smoke billowed from his nostrils. He tried again to summon his most powerful weapon, but felt only an irritating tickle within his gullet. The spark refused to ignite. The flames would not come.

Frustrated, he glared at the soaring male, whom had interfered with his kill. He snarled and gnashed his fangs. His tail whipped back and forth in anger.

The male had done this to him. The male would suffer.

* * *

Flashlight bulbs exploded inside the nest, so that only the glow of smoldering wreckage and the strobe-like luminosity of the hanging egg sacs lit up the underground burrow. Startled soldiers swore profanely.

"Another EMP!" Gabe exclaimed.

"Bulb just blew," another EOD specialist blurted. "I'm out."

Still trying to get at the bomb's sealed timer, Dipper squinted at the jammed latch, which was stubbornly resisting his efforts to get it open. The dimming light only made his task harder. He could barely see what he was doing.

"I need more light," he said.

In charge of the operation, Quinn made a command decision. "Time for Plan B. Let's get this thing out of here! Come on, come on!"

Dipper understood the man's reasoning. If they couldn't disarm the bomb, then maybe they could still get it out to sea before the warhead detonated. He stepped back and let six burly soldiers hoist the warhead by the handles on each side. Grunting in effort, they toted it back the way they'd come, retracing their path up the rubble-covered slope to the inverted doorway of the topsy-turvy Victorian home. Gathering up his tools, Dipper hurried after them, only to pause on the threshold of the buried house. He glanced back over his shoulder at the multitude of pulsing egg sacs encrusting the ceiling. There had to be dozens of the eggs, each capable of hatching yet another MUTO.

The enormity of the threat was not lost on Dipper. Two MUTOs were bad enough, but an entire swarm of them?

_Uh-uh,_ Dipper thought. _Not a chance._

He signaled the other men to go on without him. One way or another, he had to end this.

* * *

Godzilla and the male faced off amidst the burning skyscrapers. They eyed each other warily, each seeking an advantage or opening. The MUTO glided between the surviving high-rises, keeping just out of reach of Godzilla's outstretched forearms and claws. Baring his fangs, Godzilla dared the male to get closer.

But the standoff gave the female a chance to recover from Godzilla's fire breath. Singed and smoking, she rose up on her hind legs and lunged at Godzilla. Hatred burned in her crimson eyes. She screeched in rage, out for revenge.

The male attacked simultaneously.

The upended gasoline tanker was right where Dipper had seen it before, partially buried in debris on the floor of the sinkhole. Dipper clambered up the exposed underbelly of tanker to reach the pipe valve and hammered at it with the butt of his rifle. He was beyond exhausted, but adrenaline and fear for his family kept him going. A couple of solid whacks bent the valve. Encouraged, Dipper pounded it again—and the valve snapped off altogether.

Fuel gushed from the pipe, the gasoline smell invading Dipper's nose and mouth. The fuel spilled down the belly of the tanker onto the floor of the pit, where numerous small fires still smoldered. The gas washed over the bronze dragon and the other debris, streaming toward the flames.

Dipper wasn't going to stick around for the fireworks. Leaping down from the tanker, he landed roughly on the loose debris, twisting his ankle. Despite the pain, he sprinted out of the cavern, making tracks for the surface. His boots pounded against the ceiling of the upside-down Victorian.

This was going to be close.

The MUTOs pressed their attack, ganging up on Godzilla. He staggered backwards down a wide, wrecked boulevard, inflicting yet more damage to the city with every faltering step. His jagged fins scraped against a red granite building, shredding its elegant façade. Gasping for breath, he choked on the swirling smoke and ash and the volatile gases filling his lungs. He tried to burn it all away, but his hot breath caught in his throat, scalding it. Boiling blood and saliva trickled down his gullet.

The male strafed him from above, clawing at Godzilla's head and shoulders. A half-dozen talons went for his eyes, and Godzilla barely managed to keep them at bay with his snapping jaws. The female sank her fangs into his neck, holding back his muscular forearms with six arms of her own. Godzilla roared in pain, wanting to fry her to ashes, but could muster only a faint crackle of electricity in his throat, which wasn't enough to ignite the fire. His tail lashed the air, striking only a historic clock tower, which was knocked off its foundations. The tower crashed into an adjacent building, which collapsed onto the block beyond, the wholesale destruction going unnoticed by any of the battling monsters. Bricks and mortar cascaded down onto the battered streets and sidewalks. Flames burst from ruptured fuel lines.

Godzilla was losing ground. Cold reptilian blood streamed from deep bites and claw marks in his scaly hide. The frenzied battle reopened the wounds he had sustained from the planes and tanks. Blood loss sapped his indomitable strength. Weakening, he dropped to one knee, crushing a covered bus stop and an ornamental fountain beneath it. His jaws snapped impotently, unable to latch onto either foe. He growled feebly, grimacing in pain, as the male's claws carved another chunk out of his fins. A beaked jaw pecked at his skull, while the female's fangs embedded themselves deeper into his throat. Down on one knee, it was all Godzilla could do to keep semi-upright. The MUTOs had him on the defensive.

He was fighting for his life—and he was losing.

Breathing hard, his heart pounding, Dipper had just made it out of the pit when he heard the gasoline-flooded sinkhole burst into flames. A tremendous whoosh of heat and light came rushing up from the underground nest. Dipper kept on running, desperate to put plenty of distance between himself and the newborn inferno, but his boot caught on a fallen street sign, slowing his escape.

_Damn it!_

He yanked his boot loose a moment too late. The pit exploded in flames behind him, throwing burning debris in all directions. The force of the explosion flipped Dipper and sent him flying away from the blast. An enormous fireball erupted from the butchered heart of Chinatown.

Thick black smoke enveloped Dipper and everything went dark.


	12. The Growing Heat

Many moments in her life, Mabel pine had refused to swear, curse, or use any nasty exploitive that would offend or trouble those around her. It wasn't like her- she was happy and content and excited about all things in life.

Except for today. Today was pretty fuckin' bad.

Once or twice she had heard her dad swear like that when he hurt his hand fixing a car, and it had stuck in the back of her head, waiting for the day this dark, this bleak, where she knew she couldn't just walk away smiling and prancing in the sunlight. Which, as the stomp of her feet cleared a pile of dirt around her with a splat, she realized it was getting dark.

"Mabel!"

_No,_ she thought to herself, _stay away._

She wanted to scream at the man chasing after her, to keep away. Anything to stay safe. But shouting back would reveal her position, and draw him closer. She had to stay quiet. Stay hidden. Stay safe.

This day hadn't been so bad. Well, to be frank, this night was pretty horrible. But the day had been fun. Then she met it, and life kind of decided to let her taste the horrible bitterness of supernatural reality. Everything she did was shaded in this horrible stench, like she corrupted her own world. She didn't think it would be so bad at first- maybe it would just be a thing to get over. At least she thought that way until Waddles refused to come near her.

She knew that moment what she had become, and what she needed to do.

Run.

Run away from it all. Let herself be taken in such a place that no one could be hurt. Where the pain of losing herself wouldn't be shared. She could be alone to hate herself as the beast she would soon become.

"Mabel!"

_Guys, stay back!_

She begged them silently, eyeing the growing distance as she ran deeper into the woods of Gravity Falls. The bushes and foliage around her grew thicker and thicker as the twelve year old sped through it all, hands ahead of her face.

A scratch burned across her hand to her elbow and she gasped, air jumping out of her before she could help herself. A rueful thorn bush reminded her as her skin began to bleed what running wildly through the dark forests would do. And the forests were growing darker. Soon, night would be upon her.

The cries behind her weren't just Dipper. She could hear Soos, Wendy, Grunkle Stan, even Grenda and Candy were somewhere in that mix. They were all looking for her, desperate on finding her before she could change.

_Don't these dopes realized what will happen if they __**do**__ find me!?_

Her breath was tearing at her throat in waves of pain. She had been running so fast for so long she wasn't entirely sure she was in Oregon anymore. Yet she was still in these woods. These cursed, monster ridden woods. Where her soon-to-be kin could be located, assuming they didn't find her first.

The sun was gone.

Mabel gasped again, not in pain from her arm, freely bleeding away, but at the sky above.

There it was. Beacon of the lost. Sigil of the night and witches alike. The bringer of lunacy and all forms of madness.

The full moon.

She had to keep going. Mabel practically had to tear her gaze from the moon. It was pulling her away, trying to levitate her into the black endless sky. Yet she remained firmly rooted to the earth, now driven by a fear that she felt justified as heat began to blossom all around her body.

"No," she whispered, falling over a small rock and behind a boulder. Face first into the dirt, she felt a convulsive twitch. The heat was growing. Sweat was building beneath her hair and all along her skin.

Burning.

She was on fire now.

"Ow, ow!" she gasped, using the side of the rock to climb back up. It was happening.

It was really, actually happening now. No escaping.

"Stay away!" she growled as the twitch overwhelmed her. Her chest squeezed down on her heart and lungs, a tightness that rocked all the breath from her body at once. Mabel fell back to the ground, holding her body.

The sweating skin was now becoming itchy. It didn't bother her as much as not being able to breath, but then she gasped as the tightness was applied to her back. A horrible series of crunches made Mabel want to scream; but she would not. She dared not to alert others of her location. She couldn't hear anything anymore though- the world was a spinning ball of heat and static. Her vision swayed as the world began to grow brighter.

Pushing her hand back onto the earth beneath her, she realized that her fingers were... hairy. Nails were extending and thickening. She could feel them pushing out, stretching her skin as it grew in place to accommodate her change. It felt like she was been peeled as she pushed herself upright, and fell back against the large boulder behind her. Arching and crying softly as she heard more of those body-shaking cracks. With a terrible gasp, she realized what that sound was- her vertebra changing sizes.

The fire was growing deeper, eating away at her very life, her existence. From the skin it dug deeper into what she was. Her muscles, her veins, her tendons all began to burn. Mabel growled to herself, feeling a tightness in her throat, her legs, arms, shoulders- everywhere seemed so tight as her entire body clenched up. She could breath, but it came in a raspy croak.

Her arms were now covered in thick brown hair. She wondered if this is what girls meant when they said they looked horrible if they didn't shave during winter. As soon as the joke in her mind came, offering her sanity, it was whisked away. Her jaw, without warning, popped out of place. She cried and felt the sides of her head, crying aloud now. There was no hope for silence. The fire was one thing, but now... now the burning was in her core.

All her bones stretched and curved around, becoming that of the shape she would soon take on. Her size, as she barely noticed, was growing. She was taller and taller, easily growing a whole foot, and still going. Her clothing was tearing and shredding away around her, ripping at the seams as new muscle growths came. Her once tan nails were now thick black claws, and Mabel felt points behind her teeth as the bone structure in her mouth slowly morphed, albeit with a horrible pulling feeling.

It was consuming her. This pain. Everything about it ate away at her mind now. Mabel wanted to fight it, but couldn't think of how. How do you fight the monster when you are the monster, and it speaks your language?

She wanted the pain to stop now. Damn the transformation, she just wanted the pain to stop!

"Please!" she begged the night around her with her new, elongated wolf-jaw. "Please make it stop!" she roared, clawing at her rock behind her, casting sparks as she dug deep into the stone.

It wouldn't. The fire was now becoming lava. Slow, thick, too hot to measure to the human body blistering heat that made her feel like she was no longer on earth, but in hell itself. How could a human being withstand this pain?

She needed to find a cure. She needed the pain to stop. She must make it stop!

She lashed out at the rock again, and this time took an entire chunk of the side of the boulder. Claw marks were nothing compared to her raw power. Somewhere in that action, her mind registered... blue.

The red fire had been tempered by a moment of blue. Something calming her down, making her feel alive again, cooled off. The night forest was nothing but a perfect world around her, and she growled, excited to remove this pain.

A tree was next. One swipe and she clawed a thick oak trunk in half. Then she stomped on a small rock and splintered it.

Her wolfish lips smirked. It felt good. She was exerting the energy, this fire inside her like a dragon breathed flame. Through her movements she could vent the hell inside her.

The human inside Mabel was gone.

Her eyes darted around as she spun from left to right, clawing, gnashing, splintering, crushing-

Human words.

She spun right around.

On that boulder she had attacked was a small human. He looked... familiar. The girl couldn't quite recall why. He held light in his hand. Bright light. It shone so bright it made her think of the fire inside her. The wolf-creature growled and started crawling towards the human, who continued to speak in a shaky, helpless voice.

Then it made a mistake. It enticed the werewolf. The hunter was pleased.

It turned and fled as she snapped her mouth in a loud snarl.

The being once known as Mabel leapt onto the boulder in one jump, easily clearing twenty feet, and spied the small boy running through the woods, calling wildly like a wounded animal.

Prey.

Hunt.

Exert.

The werewolf's eyes widened in glee as it leapt down and gave chase. Front paws and claws and her hind legs, she sprinted after the small human boy, who she already caught up with. It wasn't enough. She had only enjoyed the thrill of this hunt for a few moments, teasing at the release she sought. With a clearing coming closer, she side stepped the boy and swung her long, wolfish arm to the side, back-handing the human far into the air. He flew, striking one of the trees with his head before landing almost thirty feet away.

She slid to a stop, keeping her eyes on her gasping, heaving, and injured prey. He was wounded- his head bleeding.

Blood.

Red.

Fire.

She snarled, wanting to remove the source of that color. How dare it remind her of the pain she still felt, whipping around her body like a devil playing with her nerve endings?

As she approached, someone snapped on a twig behind her. The wolf spun and snapped out at the person who had managed to sneak up on her. Another human, with... red hair.

Red!

Blood!

Fire!

The werewolf howled, and approached the struggling woman, who had dropped some sort of object from her hands to the side, and made to grasp it. The werewolf would not allow such action. She lowered her head and bit at the wrist. The red-headed woman shrieked and pulled away just in time to save herself from loosing a limb. Yet the werewolf wasn't done. She placed a large paw on the chest of the woman, and pressed down.

The woman was gasping, crying for help. Another prey for the werewolf to claim as her own. This one would die soon. The only thing she wondered if she would make for a better chase than the one behind her.

"...Mabel..."

A name? What was that? A human word. Why did the werewolf understand it, it pondered to itself, and slowly turned to face the source of the sound. It was the boy, looking so helpless while still bleeding from it's head. The crimson trail had leaked all the way down his face and onto his clothing.

BLOOD!

RED!

FIRE!

The werewolf lifted its foot from the woman, who gasped and clutched at her chest, with loud heaving breaths. It didn't distract the werewolf though. This one, this was the real blood. This was the real red. The real fire.

"Mabel."

The werewolf snapped her jaw again. The boy spoke that same sound. Mabel. What did it mean? Why did it hurt her- but differently? It was not fire, but... a deep water. A crushing water inside her chest. Something about it greatly upset her.

"Mabel, please..."

The werewolf was inches from his face now, ready to bite down on whatever she so chose. She could easily bit down and crush his head instantly. Maybe tear out his neck and watch him squirm to his end. Rip him apart.

No. Not him. This one shouldn't be hurt.

That made no sense. He hurt her! HE HURT HER! Just staring at this small, weak, human was reminder of the pain inside! A reminder that mustn't be let to remain! She needed to end it, and expel the energy!

_I will not hurt him._

The werewolf snapped, but not moving closer.

KILL HIM!

"Mabel... Mabel, I... I want you to know," the boy told her with frail breaths. He coughed and his eyes began to unfocused.

The fire... where was it going? Fading away, so fast, and replaced with cold. The water was rushing in, crushing and laying waste to the endless energy of the fire. The snarling, baring teeth wolf relaxed, and extended a tongue, licking the face. No. Stay strong, little boy. Give me chase, not this. not weakness.

"It's okay, Mabel," the boy said again, patting her nuzzle, "I... don't hold it against..."

His eyes closed and he fell to the side, limp.

The boy.

His hat fell off his head, and the wolf saw the pattern. Tree. Pine-tree.

Dipper. Her brother Dipper. Her only brother Dipper. Her twin brother.

The twin to the girl, Mabel.

The blood still poured from his wounds when the werewolf began to whine. Endlessly and seemingly desperately licking the motionless boy, the werewolf whined and whimpered. He was not moving. He was not breathing.

He was not responding.

Movement to the werewolf's side only barely caught it's attention. The red-haired woman was kneeling by the boy's head. Something shined down from her eyes. Tears. The werewolf whined more.

What... what had she done?

In old folklore, they say a werewolf howl meant coming death. What could they know? This night in Gravity Falls, a twelve year old howled at the moon with nothing but sorrow.

* * *

_So. Werewolf Mabel. WERE-MABEL! But seriously, I haven't picked on Mabel in a while, and after I read the latest chapter of EZB's "The Return to Gravity Falls" the idea of Mabel experiencing the pain of a full Werewolf transformation hit me. So I talked with EZB and he came up with this, and __it came out beautifully. Or as beautiful as an angry Were-Mabel can be. And now, a message from the awesome EZB!_

_"Remember: Only you can prevent forest fires."  
_

_Wise words from a wise man. Be sure to check out his stories and give him some much deserved love, and for fans of his other work here in Click, "The Knock", the final chapter should be out soon, but we can't give an exact date. But soon. Promise. Remember not to go out at night in Werewolf territory, eat more chicken, and don't sniff the moldy cheese! Stay awesome, and we will see YOU . . . in the next chapter. Bye-bye!_


	13. The Black Door

The instant Dipper saw it, he was afraid of it. It was tall, nearly eight feet tall and about three feet wide. It was black, jet black. It was big, dark, and in his bedroom.

Dipper was 22. Three years earlier, he had moved out of his parents house, bought an apartment and even got a job at a diner.

The apartment wasn't too old, maybe fifteen or twenty years, but Dipper liked it and knew that he would be comfortable in it. That is, until he saw that door.

The day he moved in, while Mabel was helping move all of his stuff in, Dipper went up the stairs to take a look at his new bedroom. When he walked into the room, he saw the door. He was stopped in his tracks, feeling a sudden wave of uncertainty. He left the room and went to help move the boxes, not returning to the room for the rest of the day.

He never used the door. He kept some old clothes behind that door on racks. Suits, ties, dress pants, just some random formal stuff he hardly used. He was just a cook, so he never really needed them unless he was to get a job interview. Luckily, he was able to stay with this diner for a long time.

Dipper hadn't opened that door for three years. _Why don't I just get rid of it?_ He often thought. _If I don't like it, why keep it?_

_Don't be an idiot!_ His thoughts argued back. It's just a door. _It would be really stupid to get rid of it because it made you uncomfortable._

"Heh, yeah." Dipper rapped his knuckle against the door as he stood in front of it, "I'm not afraid of you. You're just a big piece of wood. I've seen a lot worse than you. All you got behind you are some old clothes that probably don't even fit me anymore."

Dipper tried to laugh away his concern as he looked at the door. It seemed to tower over him; the two small panels at the top of the door seemed to angle down at him. For a moment, Dipper felt like it was looking right at him. He tried to laugh again, but he couldn't quite muster the humor. Instead, he gave it another rap and walked off. He had things to do, get ready for work, bills to pay, and people to see. He didn't have time to be afraid of a door.

XXX

A couple of nights went by after Dipper had "mocked" the door. The feeling of being looked down on didn't leave his thoughts for the rest of the week. For some reason he just felt… watched by the door.

Dipper lay in bed one night, parallel to the door, staring at it. The door was hidden in the darkness, with only it's brass knob to let him know it never moved.

He stared for some time, looking directly at it. Dipper felt like he was in a staring contest with the door. The two just looked at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. They waited until one of them broke the stare.

They stared for a long time before Dipper finally blinked. When he did, he expected the door to suddenly swing open and reveal some sort of monster. Nothing happened, the door simply stood there, looking at him, looming over him. A chill ran down his spine and he finally turned away. Dipper fell asleep, but not after several glances back at the door.

XXX

Dipper woke up that morning with a headache. His head pounded like a death metal drum solo. He groaned and pressed down on the bed to feel something warm dampen his hands. He opened his eyes. There, on his pillow and down onto the white sheets, was a pool of blood. He sat up, tearing his face away from the pillow. It was sticky from the dried blood. When he examined the sheets closer, Dipper saw drops falling from his nose.

"What the hell?" he muttered. "A bloody nose?" He quickly stood up from his bed and ran to the bathroom. He ran in and looked at himself in the mirror.

The left half of his face, mostly the cheek and mouth area, was dark red and brown and two streams of blood still dripped from his nose. Dipper held up his nose, feeling around the bathroom for some toilet paper. He found some and quickly plugged his nose up in a hurry. The toilet paper stopped the blood and he was able to sigh in relief. He felt dizzy though and when the crisis ended, his headache decided to take center stage again.

With another groan, Dipper wandered into his bedroom and called in sick. I can't go to work like this, he thought.

Dipper called his boss with the toilet paper in his nose to sounded more convicting. His boss told him to take the day off but to come in early the next day. Dipper thanked him and hung up. _There, I have the day to get cleaned up and for my head to feel better_, he thought.

As he laid his phone back on the base, he noticed something odd. There was a sheet missing from his bed. Figuring he just kicked it off as he slept, Dipper took a look around the bed. Nothing. Not under the bed, not behind it, not around it. Dipper looked all over and couldn't find it. With a sigh, he sat down on the bloody bed.

_What a day, and I just woke up._ Dipper's headache pounded as he tried to think, tried to calm down. He felt like crap, but he also felt nervous for some reason. A bloody nose and a headache then his sheet is gone. Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. What a fucking day.

Dipper looked up, intent on some aspirin…and noticed something else. His closet door wasn't closed all the way. He could tell because the latch rested on the outside of the frame. Now he was really freaking out.

Dipper stood up, in nothing but his boxers, and approached the door. He slowly reached for the handle. He looked up at those two panels and again, they seemed to angle down at him, staring him dead in the eye. He hesitated and took a step back. _Why was it open and why am I so scared of it? It's just a door. Nothing to be scared of._ And yet, he was. He was absolutely terrified of this door right now.

Dawn was just creeping through the window. Dipper gripped the door handle. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to be scared of. He told myself this probably a million times as his hand shook on the knob. The quaking knob made small rattling noises as the latch vibrated against the frame. Finally, he took a deep breath, made a tight fist, and swung open the door.

Inside was the five jackets, dress shirts, dress pants, and two pairs of shoes he wore for interviews. They were all aligned and straight on the rack they hung on by their hangers. Just as he had left them three years ago. Dipper looked down. There was his sheet under the coats. It was folded up neatly into a perfect square.

One word raced across Dipper's mind a thousand times. How? He didn't know, and he didn't think he wanted to know. Mustering his courage again, he reached down and grabbed the sheet then shut the door tight. He must've used more force than usual, as the door shut with a small slam. He jumped in response, but stood his ground otherwise.

Dipper looked back up at the two panels and remained still. They looked back. They seemed to be waiting for some sort of response to his findings. After a few short minutes, he finally left the room.

XXX

The day pressed on. Dipper was downstairs, cleaned up and feeling better. His headache was gone. He was sitting on the couch watching TV. He was watching some documentary. It was about the civil war and how Sherman marched through Atlanta burning all in his path.

Next to him in a chair was the sheet he found in the closet. He didn't take the time to put them back on the bed, nor did he take the bloody sheets and pillow to be washed. He also didn't intend to sleep up there anyway. Yet, it seemed his venture to avoid the door was not something he was destined.

As a man talked about how Sherman planned to burn Atlanta to the ground, Dipper heard something that made his blood run cold. A loud slam echoed through the emptiness of his apartment. It was a fierce slam, like someone who was running for their life would slam a door in front of a killer. Or like how a child looking for attention would slam their parent's door.

Dipper jumped up from the couch and look up the stairs leading to his room. The slam echoed in his ears a few times as he gazed up, unable to move. He was not just scared anymore. He was terrified. Something was in his house, something hid behind that door. And that something wanted his attention.

"Hello?" He called out. He wasn't sure how he was able to muster the courage to call out into the empty room. He wasn't even sure why he thought he'd get answer. He didn't and the house was silent once again. Dipper's nerves were not settled however.

He took a few steps forward, his socks whispering on the pale carpet. He stopped and nothing continued to happen. Dipper licked his dry, chapped lips. He then jogged towards the room. He couldn't believe how fast he decided to see the door. His body felt like it was on autopilot as he skipped up steps to his room.

Dipper flew past the bathroom and suddenly found himself at the doorway leading to his room. He looked around the corner. There was the door. It was shut tight, no latch left out. Dipper slowly stepped into his room. Those two panels watched his every move like the eyes of a hawk, or that of a demon. Dipper looked at them as he continued. Every few steps, he paused to listen and watch. Nothing happened.

Then, Dipper was at the door. He looked up at the panels again. This time something else caught his eye. It was a long streak. The door was covered with them, but this one was larger than the rest. The streak extended between the two panels and curved.

It was smiling at him.

XXX

Dipper was downstairs again. This time with a beer in his hand, the quilt over him, and his head on the arm of the couch. The time was 11:30 PM. Dipper was watching Die Hard.

He sat, his eyes blank and his body cold. He was very cold now. He even wore one of his old vests under the quilt and was still shivering.

Dipper watched as explosions came off the screen, as gunfire was passed back and forth between Bruce Willis and some terrorists. He watched, his body shivering yet still. He took a drink of his beer only every five minutes, on the minute.

He watched…and waited. He knew he was waiting for something. For the door to do something, yet he couldn't leave. Dipper didn't feel the need yet. He felt distant, actually. He felt like he was watching himself watch TV. He only ever came back to the present whenever the five minutes came up. Dipper watched TV and kept an ear out for something.

Around midnight, just as Dipper finished his beer, he heard what he was waiting for. The walls shook, the ground quaked, and his heart stopped. There was another loud slam, but it wasn't over yet. That slam was followed by another, and another, and another. The pace was slow at first, but it picked up quickly. It was almost like listening to a giant smash against a wall over and over again.

Dipper's body moved faster than he ever thought he could. His hair standing on edge, his legs kicking off the quilt, his hands grabbed the keys to his car. He ran for the door, taking a look up the stairs as he did so. The slamming continued throughout the process.

Dipper ran out the door and to his car. Then he drove away. He drove so fast, so fast to get away from the slamming. It continued in his head. Pounding, over and over and over again. It just wouldn't stop. The pounding mixed with the alcohol in his head made it so that he couldn't concentrate. He just heard the slamming of his closet door over and over again, like a jackhammer. It pierced his mind and broke his sanity. He began to laugh and laughed even louder as he watched a pair of headlights rush into his car.


	14. Island Song Pt 2 - Where Are You Know?

"Boo-bee-dee-doo, scrapbooking is fun, boo-bee-dee-doo."

Mabel Pines lay on her bed, legs kicked up into the air behind her head. Lying on the worn wiry sheets she had been sleeping with for half a summer, she flipped page after page of her summer scrapbook. The one-day-to-be-super-important scrapbook belonging to none other than Mabel Pines. It had been a fun idea to do while she stayed up here. Maybe every other day or so she would have updated it towards the goal of remembering another summer and the fun she had.

Until the and Dipper realized what a crazy place this was. Mysteries, monsters, mayhem, and more than Mabel could possible make out. It was no longer the kind of summer where she had to think of what to put in her pages, but a struggle to decide what to leave out. It was crazy enough that every other day she and Dipper would run out into the woods and discover miming plants, or rude butterflies, or a large circle that made light things heavier and heavier things lighter.

It was the coolest summer ever, thanks to a discovery her brother made. And it wasn't even over!

She was about to place another picture into the 'waddles chapter' of her scrapbook, entirely dedicated to the escapes with her and her pig, when the door banged open.

"Hey dork-ity-doo," Mabel giggled as she slipped the picture of Waddles into the journal. "You wouldn't believe what happened yesterday!" Mabel turned to Dipper, who ignored her entirely, kicking his shoes off under his bed and then crawling onto his bed and lying there in a tiff. "So, you know that boy-band?"

Dipper said nothing.

"Right! Sev'ral-Timez!" Mabel answered for her brother, "well, turns out- you and Wendy were right!" Mabel said excitedly to her brother, who groaned and turned away from her. "Clones! They were all clones for this crazy cooperate evil jerk! And Me, Grenda, and Candy got a chance to have them hang out with us! And now they're living in the woods like animals!" She finalized with excitement. "Cool right?!"

Dipper again groaned, and pressed his entire body directly into his bed, and placed a pillow atop his capped head.

"Huh. This is an unusual way to express excitement," Mabel noted, closing her book and scratching her chin. "Dipper, what gives? You're at least moderately annoyed by my antics, but not in total denial they are happening," Mabel crossed her arms as she thought. Dipper let out a wounded groan. "You sound sick. Oh! Did you try smelling some of my newest scratch-n-sniffs? That could make you feel better," she said to him, pulling away a sheet of stickers from her bed and pointing to them.

Dipper made no movement. For all a passer by could have known, he was dead.

"This one here," Mabel pointed to a blue circle, "is ocean foam. It's like you put salt into water! And it smells like watered salt! Cool, huh?" she asked, and then pointed to another, this time a couch, "and they even have the smell that all couches get when crumbs and stuff fall in the cracks! It's called- Nuevo Cushion," Mabel added with flair and a wide, happy grin.

Dipper only continued to deny the world around him.

Mabel's smile faltered, as did he grasp of the stickers. She put them down by her scrap book, and slid off the bed tentatively. This was very, very unlike Dipper. Sure, he pouted. But when he got grumpy he would snap back. This... this was something else.

"Dip?" she asked, walking to his side, poking his arm, "hey, Dip? What's up?" she asked.

Dipper finally grumbled. Mabel gasped and held a hand to her forehead.

"He lives!" she declared, and pulled on his hand. "C'mon! Tell me what's up! I haven't seen you this disappointed since you realized that Star Adventures wouldn't be airing on that dork channel."

Dipper again grumbled, but still made no attempts to verbalize his problems.

"Dipper," Mabel whined, growing tired and worried for her brother, "what's going on?" she realized the door was still open, and left his side for a moment to close it. When she turned, he still hadn't moved- not even bothering to relocate the arm she moved. "Dipper," she approached again, "talk to me, bro."

"... grahwendybuh," a voice uttered throatily in the mattress.

"Heh?" Mabel asked, leaning closer, cupping her ears.

"Idswendyandme," the voice said again, with a tad more gusto and grump behind it.

"Okay, I caught 'Wendy' in that last one," Mabel dissected the sounds, "what? She say she's actually a guy from New Jersey who's into spray-tans or something terrible like that?" Mabel asked with a grin. Dipper grumbled particularly angrily this time, and she smirked. "I'm just kidding you!" she laughed, smacking the pillow on his head, pushing him deeper into mattress. In a flying fit of anger, Dipper grasped the pillow and threw it across the room.

Mabel stepped back, her eyes stuck on him as he breathed heavily.

"Okay, I'm sorry Dipper," Mabel told him as she noticed tears where clouding his eyes. There maybe a time and place for her to be her desire silly-self. Now it was time for supportive Mabel to step in and clear the woes of her brother's world. "Dipper, what's going on? Okay?" she crawled over and sat next to him as he punched his knees.

"I screwed up! I screwed up big-time Mabel!" Dipper groaned in the air, chewing his words so angrily that it felt like he had lost his ability to breathe. "I... I was a huge jerk to her, and all I wanted was a chance to help her!" Dipper laid back, staring so intently at the tilted ceiling, Mabel wasn't sure if the wooden tiles would catch fire. She looked up with him, eyeing a piece of mold still high above her, and then she scooted closer to him.

"What's up?" she asked. "You didn't, you know, get all kissy-kissy with her out of the blue, did you?"

"No," Dipper shook his head, "I... look," Dipper turned to her," turned out that tape Robbie made for her? It had a cryptic message in it that hypnotized her," he explained, "well... me and Grunkle Stan got it. We cracked the code, and then we showed it to her?"

"And that got her upset?" Mabel asked, leaning away from her brother. That didn't make sense. As a woman, or a growing woman, Mabel knew girls to be kind of weird and insecure about certain things, but having the truth spilled to them by a friend wasn't on the list that usually resulted in such a negative response. If Dipper was reacting like this, it had been a nasty reaction.

"Well, no," Dipper furthered, his face growing red hot, "she tried running off from Robbie, and I just, you know, "started scratching his arm worriedly, "asked her if... she wanted to hang out later," Dipper added in a hurry.

"Ohhhhhh," Mabel slowly said and nodded.

"And I... wanted to say hi this morning, and she just... she looked like she hated me," Dipper said worriedly. "Last night she said that all guys are selfish jerks who can't tell when she's hurt," Dipper added in a sigh that might have weighed the same as the moon itself. "I'm... ugh..." his words failed him as he looked to his sister, eyes red and tired.

"Jeesh, Dipper," Mabel crossed her hands behind her ear, carrying with it some hair to remove out of her vision. Looked to her worriedly, a panic growing behind his vision so intense it looked like a thick haze clouding his thoughts.

"I really, really, really screwed up, didn't I?" he asked of his sister.

Mabel bit her lip. Braces be damned, it hurt a little to do so, but she had to think. Her first reaction and thought was... yes. You really screwed up Dipper. A little tact wouldn't have hurt him for that situation, and that message coming from her would have blown his mind. But he needed help; consultation and advice. If she wanted to poke fun at him, it would have to wait for a later date. Maybe if they were all in the woods later and this blows over well enough, maybe then she could tease him about it.

But here and now, he needed her help.

"Well, it's not all that hopeless," Mabel said to him with a small grin.

"Huh?"

"Well, did she say anything to you when you went downstairs?" Mabel inquired carefully.

"Uh... not really," Dipper answered worriedly, "I saw her, she saw me, and I kind of just... left," he admitted. Mabel nodded, studying him further.

"So she didn't snort, or scoff, or grimace at you?" she furthered.

"Uh- wow, really?" he blinked, "grimace?"

"Did she?" Mabel hurried him.

"Well, uh, no."

"She didn't make a sarcastic comment?"

"No."

"Did she move away from you?"

"No."

"Scowl?"

"No."

"Bark?

"What- no."

"Hiss?"

"No!"

"Moan?"

"Mabel-"

"I'm just covering all the extra possibilities," Mabel explained herself to her brother; growing impatient. "She could be a zombie."

"Not likely," Dipper sighed and but his elbows to his knees.

"So, in short," Mabel asked him again, "all she did was just look at you, and that's all."

"Uh... yes," Dipper nodded.

"Then she wants you to apologize," Mabel told him firmly.

"Huh?"

"Dipper," Mabel grasped his shoulder, and looked right at him, "Wendy isn't a crazy, attention driven girl. She doesn't care what people think of her generally, and she's not into appearances. Her ego isn't hurt- her feelings are," she explained, "you hurt her feelings when you didn't give her space after basically forcing her to break up with another boy."

"But Robbie was-"

"It doesn't really matter," Mabel cut him off with a sad tone, "if Wendy really liked the relationship, she wasn't going to like having someone give her reason to break it off. So, by you having to do that for her, and then," Mabel continued with further pain, "on top of that, you asked to hang out? Right after that?"

Dipper eyed his sister. Somewhere in his eyes, Mabel saw both a dawning light and a discovery. "You... how do you know all of this?" Dipper demanded. Mabel grinned and stretched her fingers.

"I'm a people-pleasing, match-making, awesome sister," she bragged with a teasing grin. "So, if I had to prescribe to you an answer, from me," from one of Mabels pockets under her sweater, she pulled out a goofy pair of pink-colored sunglasses, "the looooove doctor, I think you need to give her a heart-felt apology."

"Where did you get those glasses?" Dipper demanded.

"I carry them around with me all the time. Just in case someone needs," Mabel lowered the rims and bobbed her eyebrows at him, "the looooove doctor." Dipper actually managed to snicker, and Mabel gasped. "HA! AHA! PROGRESS!" she declared and tickled his arm.

"Okay, okay, cut it out, love doctor," Dipper demanded, pushing Mabel's hands away and smiling at her. She could see the thankfulness, but the daring of his eyes away told her he still wasn't entirely clear on what to do.

"I'm not really good a heartfelt," Dipper admitted. "I can plan, but... I'm not sure what to do to make it heartfelt," he told his sister worriedly.

"Well, you hang out with her more than I do," Mabel adjusted the sunglasses back over her eyes as she studied him carefully, "what does she like to do?"

"Oh c'mon Mabel," Dipper shrugged, "I don't know."

"Liar," Mabel said in a sing-song voice, cheery and already aware he was hiding something. "What does sheeee liiiike?"

"Mabel-"

"You want to get her on your side again?" she put it bluntly. Dipper's mouth gaped and struggled for words, but eventually he came nod. "Okay then. Answer the question Bro-cola. What's it she likes?"

"... she likes signing," Dipper admitted.

"Awwww-a-wait-a-minute whaaat?!" Mabel leaned closer, tossing off her glasses. This was way more interesting as just normal Mabel than 'Doctor Looooove'. "She sang to you?!"

"N-n-no! Nothing like that!" Dipper's cheeks and neck flushed bright pink, causing Mabel to squeal even more. This was adorable! How could she have missed something like this!? "Mabel, stop it!" He demanded as she wiggled in place.

"No way! Not until you explain!" she told him, and continued to squeal in that same excited, high pitched vibration.

"UGH! Okay! Fine, fine!" Dipper turned to her and her eyes widened. "Remember a couple of weeks ago when you went with Stan and Soos to go to that textiles and antiques show?" Dipper told her, "and I was working on homework?"

"Nope!" Mabel declared, "but do continue!"

Dipper stared at her with a displeased eye, but did in fact appease her request. "Well, I heard music. Turns out Mabel, Wendy can play a Ukulele. Not only can she play it, but she can sing along while playing! Oh, Mabel, she makes all those people in the internet look like amateurs'," Dipper swooned, his eyelids flopping and struggling to stay up. Mabel wondered if what was causing him to sway slightly was the sheer memory of her voice.

"You poor love stricken boy!" Mabel told him with a huge smile. Dipper flinched as she slapped his arm, but didn't stop smiling with her. "No wonder you're all beaten and crushed!"

"Yeah, okay, fine," Dipper shook off her worries, and turned away, staring at her bed. "But what do I do exactly? I'm not... a good singer."

"Pffft, shut up!" Mabel slapped his back.

"Ow."

"You sing great when you think no one can hear you," Mabel told him.

"I- I do?"

"C'mon Dipper," Mabel told him, "you practice all the time in the shower with Babba and Linty Sireling. And it's really not bad!"

"Mabel, if you're just saying that so you make me feel better-"

"I'm not," Mabel assured him, leaning in with sincerity, "Dipper, as long as you really are confident with yourself, you got it. Just like everything you do, right?" she nudged him, and he looked away, a grin spreading across his face. She had won him over in the confidence department. Now all she had to do was come up with a plan to resolve all of this before he asked her.

"So... what's the plan then?" Dipper asked. Mabel's face froze in mid-smile. That was a lot faster than she would have hoped for. What was a ticket to friendly salvation that would only take a few minutes... something easy... something public... something impressive...

"Hey dudes," a voice at the door asked as the door slid open. Soos popped his head in through the door, waving to the two of them, "Mabel, just wanted to let you know that Talent show everybody is going to will be happening tomorrow."

"Oh, okay. Thanks Soos!" Mabel nodded to her friend as he departed. She turned back to dipper. "Now... uh... plan..."

Wait.

WAIT. WAIT A SILLY STRING SECOND.

That was it! The answer to their problems!

"That's it!" Mabel declared, turning and grasping Dipper by the scruff of his shirt. "Dipper! I have a solution for you to apologize in a caring way to Wendy, and a way I can show off my violin skills!"

"Huh- wait, what's that about showing off?" Dipper asked.

"Dipper, trust me," Wendy said to him, "do you want this to be a super-duper-crazy-heartfelt-loving-message to the girl you are so head over heels with that you can't even have her look at you without a grin and you get all grumpy-butted?"

Dipper stared at her for a moment, trying to keep track of her words. When his brain reached the same point as her words of wisdom, he nodded. "Mabel," he extended a hand, "I'm trusting you."

"Don't trust me," she said as she shook his hand and reached over and pulled out a second pair of heart-shaped glasses, applying them, "trust... your heart."

"Seriously? You had a second pair?"

"LOVE DOCTOR IS OPERATING! BE QUIET PATIENT!"

* * *

In Gravity Falls, the minor talent show was set up. Folks from all around were in the public indoor theater, nestling and bustling next to one another for their desired seat. From Manly Dan knocking over a collection of elders accidentally to Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland ordering out kids from their front row seats so they could have them, the rampancy of the scene was quite chaotic. It was fortunate for those of the Mystery Shack who were present to have gotten their passive third-row seats.

"Oh, boy, I'm excited," Soos admitted, looking to Stan, who sat with a leg crossed along and his arms tightly locked.

"Yeah, yeah, excitement. Look, this sort of thing is just made for the common scrap of people to feel better about their mundane lives by putting the tag 'talented' on something they do," Stan complained to Soos, letting the Redhead on his other side be, "I mean, teaching dogs to dance? Everyone can do that! Pavlov wasn't a genius for nothing!"

"I bet he won his talent show when he was kid too then," Soos told Stan, who groaned and shook his head. The curmudgeon eyed Wendy, who seemed surprisingly... down.

"You too, huh?" Stan looked to his younger employee, who jumped slightly and eyed him. "Yeah, I know. Waste of time as a whole, coming here."

"Sure," Wendy mumbled, sinking into her seat slightly.

"Huh. What's eating you?" he asked her, "unless talent shows genuinely depress you more than upset me?"

"It's nothing," Wendy was now deep enough below her chair Stan wasn't sure anyone behind her could see the top of her hat. Then he turned around, the idea sinking into him.

"Ah, that kid isn't bothering you, is he?" Stan asked, his eyes narrowing as he glared around, scanning for a dark haired emo-looking kid. Wendy chortled, but remained seated.

"No. Robbie probably is too busy-" A buzz emanated from her pocket, and pulled out her cell phone. "Yup. There it is," she groaned, and clicked it shut with a loud groan. "Stupid boys."

"Huh. Sounds like you have more than one causing you trouble?" Stan asked a tad more cryptically. Wendy gave him a sad eye and shrugged.

"No. Just Robbie," she said, and then fidgeted with the cuffs of her shirt, "and me, I guess."

"You know, I think there was a book written about how stupidly cryptic teenagers are," Stan groaned to himself, "especially female teenagers. God. Might as well be speaking Japanese."

Wendy hadn't heard his complaints. "Like... I feel like I was too... with... ugghhh..." Wendy slid her lost she could, her knees against the back of the row two seat ahead of her, and her back at a horrible angle. Her hat had slid to cover her eyes. Stan eyed het with mild concern, perhaps that whatever was causing her to act so oddly was contagious, but at least there was the mild worry for his employee.

On the stage, Toby Determined walked out, wearing colorful suspenders and a jacket that might have been considered nice, but it was Toby who was wearing it. He cleared his throat and lifted a microphone to his overly large lips.

"Howdy doo folks," he said, quieting the crowds, "today we've got some wonderful talent for you to watch and judge. We don't have judges, but I know it's what you do," Toby glared at the crowd, "been dealing with allll my life. Don't deny it."

"BOO! BRING OUT THE ENTERTAINMENT!" Stan cat-called.

"Well fiiiine," Toby whined, and waved his hands to the side, "put your hands together for the Pines twins!"

"Yeah!" Soos cheered. Stan said nothing, but his positioning certainly relaxed and became more life-like than the rigid stick in the mud he had just been. Wendy did the entire opposite; her body tensed, and barely was able to nudge her hat above her eyes to stare at the stage. Only when Stan smacked the side of her head did she grumbled and sit up straight as the crowd went quiet.

Dipper and Mabel were stepping on stage. Mabel had an elaborate yellow dress, possibly made herself as the three other constant occupants of the Mystery Shack had never seen it before. She held a violin and bow in her hands, grinning her usual too-excited-for-life grin. Dipper had a nervous look about him, even while wearing a well tailored suit. Without a bow or tie around his neck, Dipper appeared as a miniature opera singer, or possibly conductor, had his suit come with tails.

"YEAH! GO MABEL!" Grenda's voice echoed from the back. "AND DIPPER! WIN THIS THING!"

"Ssshhh!" someone else in the crowd hissed to her.

"YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME!?" Grenda challenged loudly.

"Thank you, thank you," Mabel bowed before the audience, and Dipper grinned, awkwardly nodding his head to them as well. "We're going to do a little duet for you all now! Nothing fancy. Orrr... is it!?" Mabel turned to her brother expectantly. Sweat was on his face and his eyes were wide as he glanced from the hundreds of faces in the audience to his sister.

"I... uh, yeah," Dipper managed to squeak out, and then calmed his tightening throat, "yeah! Yeah. This bit is for a friend of ours," Dipper said, scanning the audience for them, and finally located Soos, slightly bouncing in his chair, Stan, who was watching them calmly, and then Wendy, who looked miserable, and finally made eye contact with him. "A friend who I... was really mean to. This is for her," Dipper said with a turn away, pulling up a spare microphone from the back of the stage. Mabel found her position behind Dipper, readying herself with stretch of the neck and a twist of the fingers.

Dipper turned, and she gave the thumbs up. His breath was shaky. He had never sung before people before, not even close to this amount. Heck, he wasn't even sure he was comfortable with singing in front of Mabel yet. But as he watched her, she placed the bow on the strings, and provided a note. Then she began, a somber, beautiful tune.

Dipper turned, his face white and full of panic. This was soo fast! It was just yesterday when Mabel convinced him that this was a good idea. This wasn't even the type of song he liked to sing- he was into pop. Granted, a few cool rock bands were out there, heck, he once liked this song from a crazy metal band called 'Disrupted'. This was western. He had nothing against it, and had practiced all today and yesterday-

There she was again. Dipper's eyes settled on Wendy. She was worriedly looking up at him. He remembered what she had said. 'I don't play in front of other people'. Other people having been anyone... but Dipper.

A power flooded through his heart, and he sighed. The note was right, and Dipper sang his best.

_"It came to the end it seems you had heard._

_As we walked the city streets, You never said a word."_

A moment pause for Mabel to give some beautiful notes with the Violin, and Dipper looked around, wondering if anyone was laughing or snickering. To his surprise, no. Everyone was quiet and watching him. Was that worse than laughing? He felt sweaty and itchy again... just keep singing!

_"When we finally sat down Your eyes were full of spite. _

_I was desperate, I was weak I could not put up a fight."_

Dipper checked in Wendy as sucked in air for his next bit. She was just... staring at him. He couldn't see that same anger in her that he had before, but still, it made him so uncomfortable to have her just watch him like that. Dipper glanced back to Mabel, who winked at him. _Keep going._

_"But where are you now? Where are you now? Do you ever think of me In the quiet, in the crowd?"_

_"You were strangely less in pain than you were cold. _

_Triumphant in your mind Of the logic that you hold."_

Dipper almost fumbled the mic. God, his hands were sweaty. These crowds, even the minor lights cast into his face, everything was so heavy. The world was scrutinizing him like an ant under a microscope. Just keep singing!

_"You said no one would ever know the love that we had shared._

_As I took my leave to go It was clear you didn't care."_

_"And where are you now? Where are you now?_

_Do you ever think of me In the quiet, in the crowd?"_

_"And I hear your coming_

_And your going into town._

_I hear stories of your smile_

_I hear stories of your frown."_

Dipper looked again to Wendy. She was looking away now, her face was twisted and screwed up. He... had he made her upset? Oh crud! No! He didn't want to make her cry or anything dumb like that! She was supposed to be cool with this! Dipper looked back to Mabel. To his shock, she was smiling, and even nodded to Wendy, who was still looking away. Was... this part of Mabel's plan? Keep. Going.

_"And the Darkness can descend_

_We can relish all the pain_

_But I know that's what you love_

_'Cause you know I love the same."_

Mabel let the bow off the sting and held it aside. That was it. There would be no more for this performance. They did have a time limit to get it out, and they would be reaching it any moment. Dipper stood there, waiting for a reply from the crowd. They simply stared back at him.

He must have sung badly. He couldn't breathe. The buzz in his ears grew louder.

Clap.

Dipper and Mabel whipped their heads to the one seat that stood and clapped.

Wendy.

No smile on her face, but tears running down her freckled pale skin she stood and clapped avidly. Dipper gasped and felt the life of air fill his lungs again. Soon the rest of the room was clapping. Granted, not as much as the girl in the third row, but there was a polite and congratulatory noise. Dipper and Mabel stepped next to one another, and bowed.

"She looks miserable," Dipper told Mabel in mid-bow.

"She looks happy," Mabel told him with a constrained grin.

"That's happy?" Dipper glanced to Wendy, who had sat back down, wiping away the tears with her hat.

"Just because she's crying doesn't mean she's upset, dork," Mabel said as they stood up and left the stage together. "Trust me. She got your message," Mabel nudged him in the ribs as they passed Toby.

"You sure?" Dipper felt a wide, warm smile grow in his doubtful face. There was heat in his stomach.

"Oh yeah," Mabel nodded. "She's forgiven you," she informed Dipper, an arm around his shoulder as they walked past the other soon-to-be proformers. "Looks like another successful case for," Mabel flipped out her usual pink sunglasses, "'Doctor Looooove. Booyah!"

"You're a dork," Dipper managed from a happy hiccup.

"Says you!" she pushed him aside and ran ahead, laughing in her maniacal manner. Dipper followed, glancing back once to the stage.

Wendy cried from liking it? Then... then it had been all good.

"Dipper."

The young man gasped and spun around as he let his sister walk ahead without him. Coming around to the end of the backstage to the hallway, a figure leaned on the wall, arms behind her with a feeble smile on her face.

"Wendy," he replied, glancing to his sister, who winked before marching away towards the doors, which lead to the audience.

"I didn't know you sang," Wendy told him.

"Yeah. I... uh, don't really tell anyone... either," Dipper grinned, patting the back of his head with rough, shaking hands. "You know. Just guy insecurities."

Wendy laughed, her eyes still sparkling gently in the soft light above her. Dipper gulped and watched for the moment she did. He wanted to smile along, but there was just such a beauty to her laughing like that again. Something he had been worried for the past two days he would never see her do for him.

She hiccupped loudly, and chuckled. "I loved what you did out there, you know," she told him, wiping away at her eyes with the back of her hand. "It was really nice."

"Ah, well," Dipper shrugged, unable to find another appropriate action to match her kindness, "I figured if you sang in front of me like that, I should... return the favor? Ugh," Dipper turned half way, unwilling to look at her now.

Great job, genius. Had a chance to be suave and great sounding, and he blew it trying too hard. Like usual. Just the typical-

Something soft had been placed across his cheek. He stalled, every motor function in his body stalled. Only his eyes dared move, and they slowly turned, and found Wendy there, her own eyes closed and lips pressed against his cheek.

He couldn't even gasp at air, struggle for sound. She had petrified him. Like a beautiful medusa of his affections, Dipper was turned to stone at the moment he saw her that close.

"Thank you," she told him.

"Wendy, I'm sorry for being such a jerk earlier, I just wanted a chance to-" his fears and worries spilled out, but a hand fell atop his own cap, and pushed it down.

"Dude. Chill out," she told him. She chuckled, as well as Dipper did. "C'mon. We can find a spot in the back if we're lucky," she told him and nodded for him to come with her as he pulled his hat back above his vision.

He grinned and followed through with her, walking next to her down the hallway, chatting animatedly about how much of a jerk robbie was, the crazy talents people were going to show off, and of course, when their next adventure may be.

Dipper sighed, the weight of the world flying off his chest.

It was all good now.

* * *

_I actually had this idea ponder in my head for a while now, but I had gotten the chance to write it out. So I asked EZB if he'd've been willing to help see this one out. And it's fucking awesome. AND SO ADORABLE! But hold onto ya butts, cuz we've got one more coming your way after a couple of one shots from an author by the name of_ "trystrike"_ and the final installment of "_The Knock_". But once again, if you wanna see more of EZB's awesomeness like this, be sure to check out his story "_The Return to Gravity Falls_", and if you're a fan of the anime Hellsing, check out his other story "_The Hellsing War Chronicles_". I personally don't know shit about Hellsing, but it sounds awesome. So until next time, stay awesome, and I will see YOU . . . in the next chapter. Bye-bye!_


	15. Adventures on Scuttlebutt Island

_Thanks a million to trystrike for submitting this in! This was an awesome little bit that was a good change of pace from all the death and horror and bloods 'n stuffs me and EZB have been pushing your way. This was awesome. And remember, if anyone wants to submit anything for this little story, let me know, or let EZB know and he'll let me know. You can write it out and submit it or we can think of something of a prompt. If we have the time. If we can't we'll let you know and work something out. :) Hope you enjoy! Stay awesome, and we will see YOU . . . in the next chapter. Bye-bye!_

* * *

How it had all been brought together was simple.

It had been a boring Friday yesterday. With Dipper moping around, desperately searching for anything to do mysterious and secretive, and Mabel charging around in circles while yelling "NASCAR HAS NOTHING ON ME!", Stan had decided that he would take official action, and offer a trip to the lake the following day. Mabel and Dipper agreed, but Mabel had pulled her strange charm, and not only invited Soos, who offered to use his boat, but then Wendy as well, who shrugged and supposed that she may as well go. So the following day they all attended the lake just a little bit away from town.

How it all went wrong was... less simple.

Soos' ship, a hodgepodge collection of materials all sewn together to an old fishing ship he had salvaged before being scrapped, was performing well enough. As he, with Mabel's help, established all things with the ship were in working order, Dipper had noticed a warning sign- certain sections of the lake should be avoided. With him and Mabel encountering two strange anomalous activities in this lake, Dipper made certain, once afloat, to help Soos, and steer them just close enough to the strange areas.

It may have been nothing, but as Stan started fishing and telling his usual repertoire of 'humorous jokes', Dipper spotted something along the side of the ship. Glowing bright from under the lake, all but Stan rushed to the side, who was too busy trying to reel something wicked big onto the ship.

As luck would have it, Old Man McGucket had also seen that glowing thing under the surface. Without a second thought to his actions, he lit an entire roll of dynamite, and tossed it into the water.

...Right next to Soos' ship.

What followed next was a hurricane of sound, wind, screams, and colors.

* * *

With the faintest feelings returning to him, the young boy stirred. His eyes were heavy, and the weight of his entire body must have tripled. Just moving his head was a chore as he realized he was waking up. His hat was not snugly atop his head, and Dipper slowly craned open his eyes with effort.

The world was blurry, but also unfamiliar. This was a startling revelation enough as it was, and then he realized he was lying atop dirt. Dipper startled, a newfound rush of adrenalin pumping through his veins. The rush of energy lifted the heavy curse laid on his bones and muscles and Dipper was able to look around.

He was in a forest. Where? That didn't really get him anywhere. The trees here were less thick though, and the air was dense with a mild fog. It felt like he had been here at some point or another. How long ago? He wasn't entirely sure either.

Clearing his voice, Dipper stood up and called around. "Mabel!" he shouted into the trees, his voice carrying far away. Or at least he thought so. No echo returned. "Grunkle Stan! Wendy! Soos!" Dipper looked around for clues of their whereabouts. Behind trees and in bushes and besides stones he sought- yet found nothing.

"Okay... what's the last thing I... oh. Oh, right," Dipper rolled his eyes and groaned, cupping the bridge of his nose with his hand. McGucket. The boat. Huge waves, the island, and then here.

So, he was on Scuttlebutt Island again. Earlier this summer, he, Mabel, and Soos had all journeyed here with the intent of discovering the next big monster, only to discover that McGucket had made a replicate monster of the Gobblewonker and been using it to terrify people to noticing him.

"Well, might as well see if anyone is going to be looking for us. At all," Dipper grumbled as he took his first steps and began marching ahead.

This mist obscured what hopes he had for easily spotting anyone walking ahead of him further than twenty feet. It would be a journey hard-pressed to find anyone. Clearly, the blast on the boat had knocked them far inland, and separated them all. So at this point, it would be sheer luck that Dipper came across anyone.

Five minutes or so passed as Dipper pushed past trees and stepped around bushes, and finally he saw it. The edge of the island. Dipper was elevated high from the lake and could see just past the fog now. With an excited cry, he rushed forward, and found himself several feet from the cliffs.

"Whoa," Dipper gasped, halting himself just in time. The cliff edge was probably some sixty feet up. It wasn't sheer, but the tumble down would lead to rocks and other outcroppings that could hurt Dipper should he time himself poorly when descending. "Another time," Dipper told himself as he looked up and attempted to gauge his whereabouts.

His eyes could make out the edges of the lake close by. It would be a long swim through the lake, and Dipper was no longer sure about Soos' boat being intact. Otherwise the search would be for the adrift ship, and doing his best to rope it to the island, and hoping the others would get to the boat.

Dipper sighed, and sat down, wondering on his next move. He supposed he could continue moving to the left and slowly make his way down to the water level; that way he could find the edge, and begin patrolling the island. After all, being thrown up this far and still being alive was pretty crazy. He could also turn back around and scan the island for the others. They would also probably be lurking in the island, looking for him, or the others. They could all be split apart, like him.

Fate, it seemed, would make the choice for him.

The piece of earth Dipper had sat atop collapsed from underneath him, revealed to be a large chunk of shale rock. Dipper screamed, clutching to the edges of the rock as he soared downwards, doing his own bit of dirt-boarding with a large chunk of shale. He was approaching a rocky cove, and saw quickly, he had one chance to avoid slamming right into the jagged walls. He leapt from the loose rock and dived.

He cleared the distance, soaring between pieces of rock and into soft sand and pebbles. Dipper's speed had him continue to roll and flip while his momentum slowly decreased until he could land and stay still. His body ached and he moaned in pain. He hadn't broken anything, but the constant flipping and twisting had truly bent him awkwardly a few times, and he felt himself stretched in ways he didn't want any part of.

Dipper's face was still imbedded in the sand when he heard the sinister growls that made his heart stop. From the sand he slowly lifted his face up, trace of the particles falling from his face. First, he pieces and ruins of Soos' ship, and then, glaring down at him with beady black eyes was the Gobblewonker itself.

Dipper started panicking, and pushed himself away, kicking up sand as he cried out. Yet... he remembered; this thing wasn't real. McGucket had made this as an animatronics. This was just a giant puppet with a crazy old man inside it. Dipper sighed and stepped up.

"Haha, okay, you got me, McGucket," he said, brushing the sand off his pants and shirt as he stood up, approaching the massive entity, "come on out. We need your help getting us off this island." The beast glared down at him, and slowly lowered it's head. "Thanks. Come on out of there, man. We really need to talk-"

The Gobblewonker roared. It's jaws were but a few feet from Dipper, hot breath with foul traces of rotting fish, lake-water, and possibly sewage combining into one horrible stench. Dipper gasped and turned, retching.

"That's nasty! Great upgrade, McGucket," he coughed as the monster shook its head and raised it up again. Dipper then blinked, noticing something on his face. Peeling it away, he found a chunk of fish skin. "Wait... robots don't need to... eat... which means that you're..." Dipper slowly turned and faced the giant beast as it continued to glare down at him. "Real," Dipper breathed, his eyes wide in shock.

Then he started patting his entire being. "Dang it. Of all the times to forget a camera."

The beast snapped loudly into the air, startling the twelve year old to a seat. Now, realizing he was looking a real, authentic lake-monster, he studied it. It was glossy in it's scale, with the same face that McGucket had given it; large tusks and wide jaw. Ear-like fins dotted the sides of its head, and Dipper laughed; the excitement of looking at a real creature getting the better of him. Yet his eyes continued down and he noticed something. The monster was just... lying there. Half in water, half on the beach. Four fins, easily twice as big as him, were struggling, trying to push the beast back into the water. Dipper blinked- why was it just staying there?

"Oh!" Dipper gasped. A large section of rope from the wreckage had become tangled around the neck of the monster. Dipper watched the monster pull and push itself away, tying to free itself from the constraints of the dirt, and, as Dipper could tell, away from him. The beast continued to glance at Dipper, pulling and tugging at the it's unseen restraints. It could choke itself to death if it continued to pull against the rope.

Dipper was almost certain he heard Mabel psychically communicate in his mind. His subconscious version of his sister demanded he release it and help it escape. "Okay... this is bound to be one of the dumber things I've ever done, but... here we go," Dipper stood back up, and started to cautiously approach the prehistoric remnant. As it struggled and snapped at the air, it finally saw Dipper slowly approaching. With a lightning flash, it lowered it's head and glared into Dipper's face.

"H-h-hey," Dipper gulped, his legs trembling. The size of it's head was the size of his entire body, "I'm just trying to... help you out, o-okay?" he asked the beast. It gave no reply, deciding to continue staring at him. "Okay. Okay, just going to walk around your face then," Dipper muttered to himself as he side-stepped the beast, and approached the wreckage. It still watched him, perhaps a glimmer of worry in it's eyes as he grew closer to it's body. Dipper finally found a piece of metal, perhaps sharp enough to cut away at the netting. Climbing atop the tightest section of the netting, he took the metal sheet and slid it back and forth, attempting to saw at the fabric.

The animal intuition of the Gobblewonker was dead on- Dipper had cut half of the netting away when it pulled itself again. This time the net snapped, and Dipper lost balance, falling back off the wood and into the sand as he dropped the metal sheet. The Gobblewonker roared as the netting slid from it's neck and finally, with several awkward waddles, it pushed itself backwards, and plunged into the water. Dipper gasped and sighed.

"There. Spirit of Mabel, you are appeased," Dipper grumbled.

Well, good deed aside, he still had to find a dang way off the island. The S.S. Cool Dude was mostly splinters and odds and ends at this point. Dipper supposed, lying up and staring at the afternoon sky, that he could attempt to make some sort of raft out of the remaining pieces. At least they could get across the lake mostly dry.

At the thought dry, Dipper's face was splashed by something. Blinking and coughing, Dipper pushed himself back up and gasped. The maw of the monster, staring at him again, was only a foot from his face.

"Uh... hi again?" he asked the monster as it rumbled a deep reply.

* * *

Mabel had awoken to the strangest sense that somewhere, an animal needed her help. Since leaping up and sprinting five circles in a dire panic, each one growing larger in size, she now calmed down and marched through the undergrowth of the island. There was a grand uncertainty that she was not used to in her mind.

No one was around. There was no one to be silly with, or to joke with. She had heard all her jokes before, and sure, telling them again would be funny, but she knew where she was. Scuttlebutt Island was still a part of Gravity Falls, and there was a good chance there was something odd or scary around here.

Mabel spun around, her hands at the ready. No sounds had promted her to spin around, but Mabel had snuck in a few viewings of those crazy horror movies. She was a girl, along, in the fog, separated by fog and distant wishes. If a monster was going to strike, it would do so without her knowing, and from behind her.

Mabel eyed the new sights of the woods as she combed around. "You're not getting me today, Shoveler," Mabel growled, recalling her most recent viewing of such movies, which she took a tad more seriously than her brother. "If you think you can clobber me and bury me, think again!"

She spun and yelled, "WAHAA!" to absolutely nothing.

Mabel would not be so easily taken off-guard. She then spun again, with another equally loud 'WAHAA'. Again and again she jumped from one side of her body, to directly behind her. Soon she became a blur of a girl bouncing back and forth from one side of nothing imposing to the other side of entirely emptiness. Back and forth, forward and back- sometimes she'd even do a small fake-out and look back, just in case the killer she imagined coming for her would be dangerously quick.

Too distracted with her own survival from one of two angles, Mabel never noticed a tall, red-haired girl scratching her head as she walked out into the open at her usual pace. Wendy Corduroy stared at Mabel as she leapt back and forth on the balls of her feet, shouting ,"WAHAA! WAHAA! WAHAA!"

"Mabel?" Wendy asked.

"Hi Wendy; one second," Mabel turned to her in a brief pause, and then continued, "WAHAA!"

"What are you doing?" the red-head furthered.

"Survi- WAHAA!- ving," Mabel told her.

"Oh. Sounds... loud," Wendy blanked on the word she would use to properly describe Mabel's supposed method of survival.

"They always- WAHAA- get you when- WAHAA- you're turned away- WAHAA- so if I'm always turning- WAHAA- they can't... get... me... WAHAA!?" Mabel added with a certain amount of curiosity as he breath ran thin. She had spun and jumped so frequently, her lungs had began to feel the struggle, and she finally stood on the spot, holding her knees as she panted for breath.

"Yeah, or I can, you know, watch your back," Wendy suggested as she approached, shrugging. "As a teenager, it's required for me to know all the survival situations from popular movies that have come out recently. So I got your back," she summed up as Mabel looked up to her.

"Sounds less tiring," Mabel grinned as she finally caught her breath.

Yet her eyes widened. Wendy was looking past her now, her gaze frightened. Mabel could hear it- a heavy onset of steps and a strange slick sound, like wet scales rubbing against dirt. Something strange and possibly frightening was coming. Mabel was turned away from it, just like she knew the monster-killer would have. Now, she just had to wait until it was emerging.

"Mabel, come on, get away," Wendy ushered her closer to her, waving her closer as she lowered her voice.

"I got this."

"Mabel, whatever it is, it's getting close," Wendy hissed to her, her scared frown and worry for Mabel evident.

"No. I... got... this," Mabel told her, standing upright, and relaxing her entire body. The sounds of the slushing and stomping were mixing with the bushes behind her. It would be here and moment. She had to time this perfectly- just as it emerged she would spin and alert it to her knowledge of it's presence, thus frightening it away. After all, an aware twelve year old was a force to reckon with.

It stepped out and Mabel spun around with such force her hair cleared her face, and with aspect of a wild cougar, Mabel roared a triumphant, "WAAHAAAA!"

"Ah! Don't kill me dude!"

Soos fell back into the bushes, his feet and pants getting tangled and keeping him upside down as his head entirely plummeted from eyesight. Mabel stood still, panting and staring at her victim with shock.

"Soos!?" Wendy cried, passing Mabel as she groaned and kicked at the dirt. She had almost hoped her training had been for something a tad more scary than Soos with a...

"Soos, why do you have a fish?" Mabel asked, looking to Soos as he stood up with help from Wendy.

"Thanks Wendy. This?" Soos held up the large fish, which seemed to be the source of the slopping and flopping sounds as it wriggled and desperately tried to free itself from his grasp. "This is Lumpy, the fish that can't drown in air."

"Huh?" the two girls asked.

"Well, I found it when I woke up next to me, still flopping around. I was totally dry when I woke up, see?" he pointed to himself, where only small patches of fish-ooze could be spotted on his shirt, which was non-the-less gross, "totally dry. But he was still flopping around in the sand. So I was like, 'wow, you're still flopping around? I think I'll name you Lumpy and you can live at the Mystery Shack.' So, now, here we are," Soos explained with a wave of his hands, displaying himself and the fish.

"You found a fish with lungs?" Wendy proclaimed as she and Mabel walked closer to it. It bore resemblances to Salmon, but was much rounder and less streamline than the standard Salmon. It gaped at the two girls, breathing and staring at them with a soulless gaze.

"It's kind of cute," Mabel admitted with a shrug, "so I don't see why not."

"So, it really can't drown?" Wendy asked, poking the fish in its eye.

"Well, unless it takes fish like, thirty minutes to drown in air, no," Soos told them. "I heard the screaming. What was going on?" he asked, nervously looking around.

"That was my form of self-defense! Intimidation and scaring away potential predators and killers alike," Mabel told Soos proudly, who gasped.

"Wow! Did not stop to think I could be walking into a trap with that noise. Sounded way too friendly," Soos told them. Mabel scratched her head as Wendy's mouth dropped open.

"Mabel was jumping around screaming at the top of her lungs, and you thought it was... friendly?" Wendy demanded.

"Yeah. Sort of like the same way a chainsaw is. You know it's human, so what's the worse that I can do to you? Not like a spider. Spider's can do all sorts of crazy stuff. Eugh," Soos gave a small shiver, "will they build webs? Underground nests? Get real big? Who knows."

"Well, at least I made intimidating noises that inspired you to find us," Mabel told him with a grin. "Could be worse, after all."

"Well, since there's three of us, we should probably go find the other guys," Wendy announced, thumbing over her shoulder. "I'm sure Dipper's fine, but Stan I'm not so sure about."

"Oh, Mister Pines is a survival connoisseur. I bet he could snatch a fish clean from an eagles clutches and then trade it with a bunny he caught with his bare hands!" Soos praised the old man as they began to walk away from the clearing, passing into undergrowth again.

"I could see the bunny thing, but he'd probably just bribe the eagle," Wendy replied and Mabel nodded along with that.

"He'd bribe the eagle with the rabit!" She added.

"Hey!" A voice called as a figure stepped out from a tree. Soos yelped and leapt behind Wendy, who gasped and held a hand before her. Only Mabel stood ready, and shouted back.

"WAHAA!"

"Don't hurt us! Lumpy, fight with honor!" Soos declared, holding out the fish past Wendy, who wrinkled her nose at the smelly animal.

"Whoa! Calm down, kiddo," the person walked out of the shadows and appeared, scratching himself on the chin as he approached.

"Grunkle Stan, thank goodness!" Mabel sighed with the other two as they watched him walk forward, "I was afraid I'd have to actually fight you to the death."

"Ha! Another time, sweety," Grunkle Stan told her affectionately, giving her hair a quick rub. She grinned as he took in the sight of his two other employees, and then he saw the fish. "Uh, did Dipper turn into a fish?" he pointed nervously to the animal.

"This is Lumpy. He can breathe air, So I'm taking him to the Mystery Shack," Soos told Stan.

"Thank goodness. That saves me one heck of an awkward phone call," he told them with a long sigh. "Well, I think I found my way to the beach. Unless we wanted to try our luck looking for more air-breathing fish, we should probably go," he told them as he turned, and the group continued to move.

"What about Dipper?" Mabel asked, "he could be here somewhere."

"Knowing Dipper," Wendy added with a look around, "he'd probably either head to the beaches or the highest point of the island. That way he can see the best view and figure out whatever plan he's cooking up."

"That does sound like my dork of a bro-bro," Mabel snickered and rolled her eyes, "he's not even here and he's thinking of plans. What a dork."  
"Besides, I landed close to a beach, and unless one of you landed in a tree or higher up in the island," Stan told them, "its more likely he's had the same flight path, so he's down there waiting for us. At least more so than up here."

"I hope he's okay," Mabel admitted as they pushed further through the woods, the fog brushing past their arms and legs as the moved around.

"Mabel, I survived the crash landing without a single bruise. He'll be fine," Grunkle Stan told her with a firm glance. "We just got to... whoa."

The four had cleared a small hedge of undergrowth into a small clearing. Inside the nearly thirty foot clearing was, much to their amazement, was a single, strangely ornamental tree. Grown in various different directions and paths, the single plant had the rough characteristics of a human- with arms, legs, and a thin, womanly torso. It made no movement or anything other than what would have been expected for a tree, yet the four stared at it.

"You don't think it's one of the things in your journal?" Mabel asked to her side quietly.

"Huh?" Soos asked her, and she blinked.

"Oh, right, I forget he's not here," Mabel groaned, looking to the sky in disappointment, "curse you Pavlov!"

"Okay, just going to creep closer to this thing, nice and steady," Stan said quietly, being the first to tip-toe closer to the strange life-form. It remained at east, the strange head-like shaped part of the trunk looking ahead at him blankly, no solid characteristics of humanistic features present. Finally, he was closer enough to fully extend his arm, hand, and finger and gently poke the 'face'. Nothing happened. "Ha! Not animated! Good!"

"Well, Grunkle Stan, what do you think it is?" Mabel asked as they studied it.

"Heck if I know. Some sort of tree... person... tree..." he answered quietly, staring at it's face.

"Is it a tree that looks like a person though?" Wendy tried him.

"Or is it some sort of strange person who happens to be a tree?" Soos asked Stan. He glanced between the two, and his eyes shot wider than they had previously.

"Okay, I need this tree now," he said aloud, and started trying to find proper handling, even going to places a human would find undignified. "Sorry, miss," Stan apologized after gripping a particularly unmentionable location.

"Wait, Grunkle Stan," Mabel put a fist to her hip as she stared at her grand uncle, "what about Dipper?"

"The kid will be fine. So far there hasn't been anything dangerous to find on this island. Soos!" Stan called to his co-worker, "help me root this wooden lady out!"

"Stan, are you sure that this is a good idea? What if like, I dunno, there's some weird spell or curse on this tree or something?" Wendy asked as Soos looked on nervously, hesitant to follow the order instantly.

"Look, I don't care if it's a coincidence, a spell, or a curse; it's coming with me," Stan told Wendy, "Soos!"

"Well, okay Mister Pines," Soos nodded and approached. As he began to lower his fish, something rustled in the bushes yet again. "Ahhh! Dipper?" Soos called.

"Dipity-Dottity?" Mabel called in addition.

"Dipper?" Wendy called. Only more rustling replied, and they all retreated a step, yet Stan held his ground, angrily looking for more leveraged.

"O-okay Lumpy!" Soos told the fish face-to face, holding it to his gaze, "your time has come! Use splash!" Soos bellowed, and then threw the fish into the bushes with all his might. The rustling stopped, and the four watched the area of leaves, waiting for anything to follow up.

"... nothing happened," Mabel announced.

"Use splash?" Stan asked, glancing to his employee. "What's that about?" Stan asked.

"Something from a game I played once," Soos admitted, but then furrowed his brow, "or... wait, no, maybe a television show? Movie? Series of movies? Card game? I don't remember honestly."

"Sounds familiar, honestly," Wendy stated.

The rustling in the brush returned, and the four gasped. With one, waddling step, a single beaver emerged, it's dark eyes and goofy eyes peering around. Mabel instantly 'awww'ed and cupped her cheeks.

"Look at that little guy! He's such a proper beaver, standing up like that," Mabel observed as it approached them, pulling out the fish with one of its arms, wrapping its arm around it. As it grew closer to Soos, it stared up at him, a small twinge of fury behind those dark, black eyes. Then it twisted its body and threw the fish back into his face.

"Ow!" Soos gasped as he was slapped with Lumpy the Air-breathing fish. "Oh, sorry there," Soos apologized to the beaver as it glared at him. With a scowl, it made to turn from him, but then it's eyes fell upon the tree.

The beaver seemed to have found nirvana. It's already silly looking eyes grew wider and wider as it stared near to Grunkle Stan, it's mouth beginning to drool as it opened its mouth and uttered a small chatter of high-pitched, squeaky gibberish.

"Mine!" Stan bellowed, and stepped in between the beaver and the tree. "Go find your own!"

"Aww, Grunkle Stan," Mabel told him as the beaver squared off with her grand uncle, "he probably needs that tree for building his little beaver home."

"Well, I need this to complete my collection of 'things that look like things that are not those things'," Stan told her. A small squawk below him made him turn down, and find the beaver, now aggressively trying to chew at his shoes. "HEY! HEY! OFF YOU LITTLE BRANCH GNAWER!" Stan roared as he kicked at the beaver, launching it into the brush.

"Whoa! Stan! Chill," Wendy held her hands up, having barely ducked aside as the beaver passed by her face just by a foot.

"No! This tree is mine! I found it, and she's coming with me!" Stan told them and the forest surrounding them at the same time. The beaver stuck it's head back out, unleashing some sort of beaver-language as it cursed and swore at Stan in it's language. "Ha! Go ahead and mock me buddy! This one is mine, and you can't change that!"

The beaver glared at him, and as it turned, all but Stan could have sworn they heard the beaver say 'we'll see'.

"Uh, is it such a good idea to upset the locals?" Soos asked Stan as he looked between the beaver, who slowly backed away, keeping his eye-contact with the old con-man the entire time.

"Ha! Please. What's one little monster like that got against me? I've punted teenagers and men larger than five of those across the lawn before. Now help me get this thing up and out, Soos," Stan reminded him, to which Soos nodded, handed Mabel Lumpy, and then marched over.

"Hello Lumpy," Mabel told the fish as she held it in her arms.

"Careful there, Mabel," Wendy told her with a grin, "fish smell is going to get in that sweater forever if you hold him too close."

"Dang! I even have a sweater with a fish on it for just such a scent!" Mabel told her and held Lumpy at arms distance away. The two watched Soos and Stan pull and tug at the tree, slowly retrieving it from the earth. "Well, at least with Lumpy I can do it later."

"Yeah, you've got that for you," Wendy told her with a distant grin. Mabel looked to her, and Wendy caught her stare. The redhead wasn't telling everything on her mind. "It's nothing. Just worried."

"Don't worry, Dipper will be okay," Mabel told her with a happy smile, "he's a lot tougher than anyone will ever let him know. Because he's such a girl about it most of the times, hehe."

"I didn't ask- Dipper wasn't-" Wendy coughed for a brief second, and looked back to the tree. "Yeah, I bet you're right. He's fine."

Mabel did not stop staring. Wendy was, if anything, chill and suave about all aspects in life. They could be talking about the most fundamentally difficult aspect of life, like death, and Wendy would probably have been entirely chill about it. Yet one mention of Dipper? And she has to cover her tracks like that? Mabel eyed her and felt a fox-like grin escalade to her lips.

"Soooo... Wendy?" Mabel asked, rocking Lumpy the fish back and forth.

"Hm?" she asked, still looking away.

"You know Dipper and I are like super cool with you hanging around alot," Mabel told her, "and it's so cool that you let him chill with you when Grenda and Candy come over. So, from one girl to another," Mabel asked as her voice slowed and she savored the moment, "anything going on there?"

"Dipper and I just like the same movies, man," Wendy snickered and shook her head gently, continuing to watch the tree slowly be pulled up.

"Mmhmm. You guys do watch movies a lot," Mabel added, biting her lip ever so gently as she felt she was creeping onto some sort of devilish secret. Wendy gave her no audible response, which Mabel took for a encouragement to ask more. She gasped and grinned as she did a little jump. "Wendy, do you like Dipper?"

"Dude, what?!" Wendy turned to Mabel, a mild flush in her cheeks.

"C'mon, it's just us girls!" Mabel told Wendy, "the boys are too busy doing man stuff!"

"Soos, but your hand there, on her armpit, and pull up!" Stan called loudly.

"You got it! I just don't want to hurt her back or her arms during this. She's like a delicate flower- just made of woods and not petals," Soos replied.

"See? No mind for us as they do crazy dude things," Mabel assured Wendy, who seemed entirely uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Mabel, look, I'm not sure I-"

"There... we... go!" Stan shouted, and the whole clearing was showered with loose dirt as the womanly tree was plucked from her rooted spot. "Ahh... You'll love it at the Mystery Shack! I promise!" Stan told the tree as he gave it a good looking over, a few inches shorter than he was, not including the sparse branches that protruded from the top.

"Ahem- welp," Wendy pointedly walked away from Mabel and to the tree, "if you're now ready, we can head to the beach."

Mabel sighed and shouldered the fish, holding over her back like some obscene weapon. "Yeah. We need to go see if Soos still has a boat to take us home with."

"Yeah, S.S. Cool Dude may yet live!" Soos hopefully shouted.

"And if it doesn't?" Stan asked.

"Then I have one awesome episode of Fixin' It with Soos coming up online," Soos told them.

The leaves behind them rustled, and they all watched as the first beaver returned, glaring at Stan angrily. "Ha! You think you can stop me now, pip-squeak?" Stan mocked, pointed at the beaver with one hand as he cupped the tree under his arm. The beaver had awaited this response, for it then slapped the ground with it's tail, and the bushes all around the beaver began to sway and toss. Dozens of equally angry beavers stared at the four. "Oh. That, you know, that aught to do it."

"Run! Flee!" Mabel declared, pushing the others away as she took the rear guard, pushing the three as they all began to jog away. "The beaver army comes!" she shouted, as what could easily be a hundred beavers bored down on them, chasing after them in the undergrowth.

"Oh no! Ambush!" Soos pointed ahead. Standing on a rock, with a mad cackle in beaver-tongue, a single beaver pulled on a chainsaw cord, and the machine roared to life. All four screamed and ran past the fallen beaver, who had been unable to control the maniac trembles of the machine as it rattled through the entire body of the animal.

"There! I can see the beach!" Wendy pointed ahead.

They were close. Seconds passed as they exited the edge of the woods and found themselves on the rocky and mildly sandy beach shore-line. As Stan, leading the charge slid to a halt, looking around, he came to a shocking and upsetting conclusion.

"We're running to the water, while running away from beavers," he told them turning to the angry army of small mammals, "I'm not sure this was as a clever idea as I thought it would be."

"What are we going to do?" Soos asked as the four of them were surrounded quickly by the strange tailed animals. Wendy had her hands out and ready for a scuffle, and Mabel held Lumpy the fish at her side like a baseball bat- ready to go down swinging.

Grunkle Stan sighed and held up the tree in his arms. "I'm not having us get chewed out for this tree. They get it, and they let us go," Stan told them with a sad look to the leader beaver, excitedly chirping at the sight of the tree. As Stan slowly lowered the tree to the beavers, who anxiously awaited their loot, a shadow crept from above.

The beavers began to squeak, squawk, and otherwise let out cries of terror as the shadow loomed directly over them large enough to cast the entire group and all the beavers into darkness. They turned, waddling or crawling their fastest away from the water's edge. Stan watched them go, blinking in confusion. "Uh... wait... running? Oh. Oh! HA! HAHAH! That's right! Scary up close, aren't I!?" Stan laughed after them, putting the tree down next to him, and leaning on it as he belly-laughed his triumph.

"Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked worriedly, as she and the other two had turned to the shadow.

"Ha, ha... what?" he turned, and then looked up. "Oh. That's a bit more scary."

A lake-monster was currently glaring down on the four with dark black eyes. Water dribbled off it's sides, falling with large drips into the water next to it as it reached all the way out from the water, and lowered it's head to be in front of the group, sniffing them. Then, a familiar voice called to them from the top of the head.

"Need a lift guys?" Dipper asked, straddling the base of the beast's neck.

"Bro!" Mabel cried.

"Dipper!" Wendy shouted.

"Look who decided they liked me for untying them from a net," Dipper patted the side of the large animal with a grin, which let off some sort of purr.

"You befriended the local lake monster?" Stan demanded, and then looked to his tree, "man, and I thought I hit it big with this beauty."

"Well, climb on you guys!" Dipper told them, "he won't mind. Oh, and Soos," Dipper told his friend as they all slowly climbed atop the monster, "the S.S. Cool dude didn't make it. Sorry."

"Another episode shall come SOON!" Soos roared to the heavens, merely having Dipper blink.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Well, lead us home, kiddo," Stan told him as he climbed on with the tree. Dipper nodded and patted the animal, who grumbled and slowly turned back to the water, pushing away from the shore.

"Dipper!" Mabel told him excitedly, holding a fish to his face," say hi to Lumpy! He's going to be living with us for now on! He's an air-breathing fish who likes to be wielded like a weapon!"

"Oh c'mon," Dipper sighed exasperatedly, "fist Waddles, now... this?" he asked, looking to the fish.

"Don't worry; I'll be taking care of him," Soos told Dipper, who shrugged. As he shrugged, Dipper spotted the plant his grand uncle was holding.

"Hey, Grunkle Stan?" Dipper asked.

"What?"

"Is that supposed to be a tree who looks like a person, or a person who looks like a tree?"

* * *

Along the shore of Scuttlebutt Island, an old, tattered man washed ashore. Covered in lake-weed and thoroughly soaked, Fiddleford McGucket clambered onto the drier beach, coughing and gasping for air. Small in stature yet surprisingly resilient, the old man pulled himself forward, clawing sand under his hand as he hacked away the water.

"Dang nabbit, swindling swornlin', roughin' toughin, cob-swallop!" the old eccentric swore aloud as he pushed himself upward, nearly stumbling back into the water. His soaked hat, a wide-brimmed prospector hat, flopped in front of his eyes as it was weighed down by water. He grasped it with his long, lanky fingers and with both hands, twisted it along it's length, squeezing out the water laden in it's fabric.

"Ah! Just like brand spankin' new," he declared, putting the still soaking wet hat onto his head with a loud splat. He looked to his beard, and followed suit with a long twisting of his facial hair. Water trenched out and fell around his feet, splashing sand aside from his exposed toes. A few pebbles and chunks of lake-weed fell from the beard as well, and he finally sighed, feeling the weight of all the water accumulated falling away.

"Hot dang! Much better. Now time to find myself a-homeward bound and-"

McGucket started to take a step forward, but halted. An approximate army of Beavers stood before him, watching him beadily as he stared back. Moments passed as the eyes belonging to the beavers watched every blink of McGucket, who couldn't synch the blinks of his eyes to match a standard human.

This, as it turned out, seemed to do him well; the beavers started squeaking excitedly as they watched him blink again and again. Should someone have been able to speak 'beaver-tongue', they would have heard them proclaiming their wondrous discovery.

"Well, if you fellers are gon' be this well behaved, I can construct a giant beaver water-tank to help you take over the region," McGucket told them as they celebrated his blinking. "Lead me to your home!"

The beavers turned and waddled away, through the woods with McGucket, who was wondering how he would solder enough wood together and fashion wiring from plant life.


	16. Live by the Creed

_This is an exscript for an idea I've had for a while now, but I'm still debating on whether or not I should post it. Lemme know what you guys think of this, and I'll give it some more thought. Enjoy!_

* * *

Steel gray clouds loomed overhead, the familiar scent of rain filling the air. The faint rumbling of thunder boomed in the distance. The sky threatened to unleash a torrent of rain at any given moment, but that didn't stop the townsfolk from going about their daily lives.

Dozens upon dozens of people packed the city streets, each one with a different agenda to attend to. The air was filled with the usual mixture of chatter and footsteps clattering against the stone ground. Some people were in a clear hurry, pushing and shoving their way through the thick crowd, much to everyone's annoyance. Others seemed to have all the time in the world, and simply went with the slow flow of the crowd through the maze of tightly packed, stone buildings.

Walking amongst these crowds of people, remaining as calm and stoic as a statue, was a single woman clad in stark white robes. Bright green eyes, hidden in the darkness of her hood, scanned the citizens around her. Nearly all of them wore a smile, some less intense than others, but a smile nonetheless. She almost pitied them.

Though no body would openly admit it, all was not what it seemed in the city. All of those calm, happy faces were merely masks; a façade designed to hide what the city truly was at its core: a place ruled through violence and oppression.

The hooded woman took a moment to peer through the crowds. Everywhere she looked, she found guards sprinkled throughout their ranks; dozens of armed, armored men walking down the streets, maliciously eyeing anybody who walked by. They spent every second of every day waiting for any slip-ups so that they could deliver their own brand of 'Jerusalem justice'. Some people still wore the bruises and scars from their last run-in with the law.

The overwhelming feeling of oppression not only killed spirit, but ambition as well, and it showed through the citys architecture. Nearly every building was a simple, one-story structure, carved from the greyest and dullest of stone. It didn't matter if it was a house, a shop, or even a place of worship, they all looked the same, their signs serving as the only distinction.

There were none of the elegant, grand structures like the Royal Palace in Israel, or various temples such as those sprinkled throughout the country. In fact, the tallest structures to be found in Jerusalem were the numerous bell towers looming over the city. It didn't take an expert analyst to realize that tension was thick in the air. That was what brought the woman there in the first place; the city needed her.

The only thing keeping these people in line was fear. Sheer fear. They were ready to explode, but fear of the consequences was the only thing holding them back. Some of the countries more corrupted higher-ups caught onto that fact, and ensured that they were given reminders of who's in charge. Today was the day for such a reminder.

At the heart of the city, a large crowd was gathered around the city's infamous scaffold. Most people made it a point to never walk past this death display, but today was an exception. Criers all throughout the city gave news of an execution. Whether it was out of morbid curiosity or the fear of what would happen to them if they didn't attend, nearly the entire city's populace crammed themselves around the wooden structure.

Atop that structure, taking in the angry, heated stares of countless people, was a man covered head to toe in armor. No part of his body was viable. But it wasn't his presence that made the onlooking crowd uneasy. In fact, most of them weren't even paying attention to the man, or the duo of armed guards at the scaffold's base. For most, their eyes, wide with shock and horror, were glued to the two corpses behind the man. Two young men, their lives cut far too short, hung by their necks.

"Thieves! Murderers! Plunderers! Let this be a lesson to all of you!" the armored man shouted. "This is what happens to those who don't know their place. We are the ones in charge. Those who think otherwise, feel free to challenge us. We will ensure that your deaths are swift."

The more the man spoke, the more uneasy the crowd became. Soon enough, insults and obscenities flew out from their ranks until the entire crowd became an unintelligible cacophony of angry chatter. The guards readied their weapons, raising them in their grip. A riot threatened to break out at any second.

In the middle of it all, remaining as calm as she was when she arrived, was a single woman clad in stark white robes. Her bright green eyes were fixed on the man onstage ever since she arrived. She was just waiting. Waiting for that one chance, that one moment. The perfect opportunity to make her move. As soon as the people around her grew restless, she knew that the opportunity had finally arrived. It was time to make her move.

As the man continued to taunt the irate crowd with threats and insults, the woman started towards the front, lightly nudging people out of her way.

Each step towards the scaffold sent her heart rate up a notch. She could feel the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins. The man was still a good ways away, but she was already ready for anything to happen. She didn't even notice when she broke into a jog, shoving more and more people out of her way.

Her less than subtle actions soon caught the man's eye. The white figure moving through the thick crowd sent a chill right down his spine. "Stop her! Do not let her reach the stage!"

The pair of guards wasted no time in following their orders. Taking up their weapons, they rushed towards the crowd.

The hooded woman was practically sprinting through the crowd. Forceful shoves knocked some people to the ground, not that she was concerned. She finally broke through just as the guards reached her. There was no more time for hesitation. No time for thought. There was only time for reaction.

A guard swung his sword, aiming it straight for her head. In the same instant, she ducked her head down. She felt the blade brush against the top of her hood. A second too late, and she would've received a rather unpleasant haircut, but that was besides the point. The guard was wide open, still recovering from his attack.

In one, quick motion, the woman reached her hand into the depths of her robes. She firmly grasped down on something strapped to her side; a handle, of some sort. The familiar feel of leather and dried blood danced on her hand. Wasting no time, she pulled her hand back up, removing the object from whatever sheathe it rested in. Though she didn't look directly at it, she could see the glinting blade out of the corner of her eye.

There was no hesitation. No thought. It was simply reaction as she brought the dagger clean across the guard's exposed throat. The grip on his sword slackened, the weapon clanging to ground along with the guard's bleeding corpse. She didn't even bother with a glance. She still had one more in between herself and her target.

The remaining guard hardly seemed affected by the death of his comrade, and rushed forward with the same recklessness.

He didn't take more than three steps before the hooded assailant flung the dagger from her hand with a strong flick of her wrist. The weapon tore through the air as it flew towards the guard. By the time he gained enough sense to realize what had just happened, the dagger already pierced his helmet, and buried itself in his skull.

Before his body even fell to the ground, the woman ran up the scaffold's wooden stairs. There were no more distractions. No more obstacles. It was just her and the target.

Once she reached the top of the stairs, she pushed off of with her legs, leaping high and far. The man tried to draw his sword, but by the time he even got his hand around sheathe, she was already in the air, ready to strike like a bird of prey.

She stretched out her right arm, exposing a silver vambrace attached to her wrist. Out the corner of her eye, she saw its silver exterior glisten in the dim sunlight. Then came that beautifully familiar sound. A blade shooting out of its confines, ready to strike. Ready to kill. There was no time for hesitation. No time for thought. There was only time for reaction.

In the blink of an eye, she brought her hand down hard, driving the attached blade deeply into the man's throat. All of her momentum forced the already dying man to the ground, her hand still planted firmly on his neck. He struggled, he squirmed, he used every last bit of his remaining energy to try and fight back, but it was of no use. Soon enough, his movements ceased, whatever lingering life he had left leaving his eyes.

The woman gingerly removed her blade from his throat before it retracted back into her vambrace.

Her deed was done.


	17. Island Song Pt 3 - Good Ol' Days

_I meant to get this out yesterday but I got busy and didn't get the chance to post it. As always, that to EZB for writing out this final piece of WenDip fluff! Can't thank you enough, man. Go give that guy some_ love_ and check out his story _"The Return to Gravity Falls". _It's my shit right now. Enjoy the final part of the Island Song trilogy, "_Good Ol' Days_"._

* * *

"Ahh, Greasy's Diner! A shining example of the cardiovascular resistance of health-conscious choices in American cuisine!"

"It's also cheap," Dipper said to his grand-uncle.

"Super-cheap! I can eat here and give you guys a plate of mayo for less than five dollars!"

Grunkle Stan pulled open the door of the diner as he spoke to the twins, ushering them inside the building as the sun set behind them, cascading a gentle ray of warmth on their backs. Grunkle Stan had recently promised them to head out and get food that wasn't preserved in his kitchen cabinets for months before cooking. So his compromise took them to Greasy's, the local joint of food that might as well have come out of Grunkle Stan's cabinet anyway, based entirely on the quality. Soos joined them this sojourn, entirely excited that his boss had let him join the trip.

"I love the steaks they make here," Soos told them as they strolled inside the American fifties diner designed interior, with the twist of it all in disrepair. "Last time I ate one, I think it moo'd at me."

"Talk about fresh," Grunkle Stan chortled. Dipper and Mabel eyed the two men behind them as they lead the way to a seat. "What? A man can't enjoy a rare, fresh, good 'ol hunk of flesh?"

"Grunkle Stan, there's a reason they cook meat through," Dipper pointed out as Mabel rushed past him and slid to the furthers end of the long conjoined plush seat. As she sat, Dipper glanced around, getting an eye on the other inhabitants of the small diner. A lot of seats had been taken, both by the bar and by the tables. He was fairly certain he saw Manly Dan and his kids by a table, but his gaze did not catch Wendy.

"It's so they don't feel anything when you bite down and chew!" Mabel told them.

"Yea- wait, no," Dipper glared to his sister, "that's not it."

"You don't know that. Plants have feelings! So, meat can too," Mabel pouted as she started spinning the salt-shaker. "It did once. What if ghosts feel the pain of molers chewing down on their flesh unless it was cooked?"

"They cook meat because diseases can stay inside uncooked meat for a long while," Dipper told them worriedly, now facing Grunkle Stan and Soos as they sat across from him.

"Look kid, sometimes you need to risk your health to enjoy something," Grunkle Stan said simply, "like robbing people. Sure, it's not safe, but boy that adrenaline rush!"

"Or swimming," Soos added, "you know, they say everyone who's drowned has ended up dying?"

"No way," Mabel gasped and stared at Soos.

"Yeah dude. Swimming should be considered an extreme sport because of the dangers of life-threatening water. You surround yourself with things that can constantly kill you," Soos pointed out, to which Mabel nodded further. Grunkle Stan sighed and placed his hands on the bridge of his nose.

"You know, sometimes I worry the generations after me are getting too smart. Then I have you to help correct that vision, Soos," Stan said with a grumble. Soos chortled and patted his employers shoulder.

"Anything for you, Mister Pines!"

Dipper rolled his eyes and leaned back. The table they were seated at was, to his immense surprise, actually cleaned. The chrome metal reflection told him that something odd was going on already. Greasy's was, if anything, constantly greasy. So he turned around once again. Investigation abilities aside, Dipper was rather observant, and his eyes caught onto the strange existence of cleaned furniture and chrome metal. It wasn't just his table- it was all the tables. Then, finally, hanging above the bar nearest the kitchens, was a single crude sign.

"Karaoke Night?" he repeated from the sign out loud. Suddenly Dipper was pulled aside as his sister yanked him away so she might get a better look, her eyes wide with awe.

"Oh my GOD! It IS!" she declared.

"Huh?" Stan asked in his bored tone, glancing through a menu.

"Tonight is a Karaoke Night for Greasy's!" Mabel told the three around her, her loud voice echoing deeply into Dipper's ears. He finally shoved her off him, and prodded a finger into his ears, hoping not to have lost the ability to hear several decibels.

"Ah, come on," Grunkle Stan sighed, scratching his head, "really? Has everyone got to be singing around here?"

"What's wrong with singing?" Dipper and Mabel asked in unison.

"Look, there are plenty of ways to look like an idiot," Stan told them folding his arms across his chest as he tossed the menu to the side, "trust me, I've even tried a few from time to time-"

"More like, all the time," Mabel verbally jabbed at Stan as she and Dipper chuckled.

"Ha-ha, funny. Karaoke is just a sad remnant of a bygone age, and the sooner it realizes that, the better," Stan said as Soos began to flip through the pages of the menu.

"Also, like you," Dipper added, and the twins laughed more. Stan grumbled and glared at them, his gaze icy cold and disapproving.

"Oh, they have blueberry-bacon-sausage-kiwi-turkey-moose-potato pancakes!" Soos declared.

"Yeah, knock yourself out," Stan said, and Soos nodded. "No," Stan then turned to him, "I mean, actually knock yourself out. Those things will kill you."

"It looks like there's a mystery prize for winning a Karaoke competition," Dipper told them.

"Mystery prize?" Grunkle Stan hummed, "I wonder if I can press charges for copyright infringement…"

"Oh, do you think it's a pony?" Mabel asked, "or maybe the other half of a pony they didn't cook up for burger meat?"

"Uh, I don't… think… so," Dipper slowly turned to his sister's excitement and stared to her. "Uh, but you know, I bet I could get that win."

"Pfft, Dipper, please," Mabel put a hand on his shoulder, "if there's anyone who's got the prize under her belt, it's me."

"Yeah? When's the last time you did karaoke?" Dipper looked to her.

"Last time? Try I never quit," Mabel smugly grinned. "I even have a spare Karaoke set with me in the room, just in case Grunkle Stan puts on another public party. I won't be caught off-guard again," Mabel told them with fierce determination.

"Sure. Otherwise it'll just sit in our room, closet, whatever, collecting dust?" Dipper asked.

"Yup. Maybe I can fashion it as a weapon- like some club against gnomes, or the undead!" Mabel thought aloud.

Dipper shook his head and again looked behind him. There was a list next to the stage set up, presumably of those who would be partaking in the competition. While is eyes were not perfect, he could tell that almost all the slots had been taken- except for one. The first slot was still open. Rolling his eyes, Dipper figured he could just tack himself on at the end. While the whole talent show had been a rocking success, he didn't want to start advertising himself as anything special.

As he stood up and sighed, adjusting his hat and walking away from their table, he silently wished Wendy would be here to hear him again.

"Dipper!"

A hand grasped Dipper as he passed a booth three down from his. Yanked back, he found, reaching out to him with a wide beaming smile, none other than Wendy Corduroy.

"Hey!" he gasped, and reconsidered his voice- too high pitched. "Hrmph, Hey," he tried again, letting his lower register take foot. "Hey Wendy, didn't see you here."

"Yeah, with my fam," she told him, thumbing directly behind her.

In the booth next to Wendy was her father, the impressive and hulking Daniel 'Manly Dan' Corduroy. His thick arms easily blocked out Wendy's impressive height for her age as he let them rest on the back end of the seats, which explained to Dipper why he hadn't seen her to begin with. Dan was chewing on an almost raw looking shank of meat, which he chewed proudly, displaying its contents over and over with wide, distinct grinding.

"Who's the little girl?" Dan asked, barely noticing Dipper.

"Hey, I'm not a girl," Dipper sheepishly replied.

"This is Dipper," Wendy told him as her brother's snickered across the table, until each of them suddenly yelped in pain, as something from under the table kicked them all, one at a time in the knees. "He's a good friend of mine, staying over the summer-"

"Tell the girlscout that I want ALL her cookies!" Dan informed Wendy as he lifted the salt shaker, and threw it into his mouth. Dipper gasped as the man chewed the plastic and large quantities of salt along with the meat, not skipping a moment.

"Okay, dad, sure," Wendy rolled her eyes and turned back to Dipper after giving her brother's a warning glare, "so, wassup man?"

"Oh, uh, nothing!" Dipper started, and then caught his mistake," err, I mean, I was just about to sign up for the karaoke tournament. Planning on proving Mabel wrong, you know, again," he added with a smirk. Wendy chuckled, giving Dipper a reason to feel suddenly airy and weightless.

"Twin competition? Man, you guys are crazy with that, you know?" she told him with a gently push on his shoulder. Dipper laughed with her, and a grand spark flashed in his mind's eye.

"Hey, you know," Dipper approached her, quieting his voice like he were spreading a secret rumor, "I could use some help."

"Shoot man," Wendy grinned as she leaned closer. That close breath was enough for the kid to melt, but he held his composure and remained standing.

"So I can sing a little, sure," Dipper admitted, "but how cool would it be if, well, you know," Dipper stumbled, her bright forest green eyes peering excitedly into his, "uh, you kinda... sang with me?"

Wendy's bright smile faded and she blinked. With a quick glance around the backwater restaurant, Dipper watched as her face slowly faded to a light shade of pink, and she slipped her bangs of hair behind her ears. There was worry, and when she looked back to Dipper, he could see more than that: there was pity.

"Ah, man," Wendy bit her lower lip, frowning, "I want to help you out buddy," Wendy told him, "but I couldn't man. You know how nervous I am with my voice."

"But you're so pretty!" Dipper blurted out, and then with a rush of urgency, "I mean- your voice is! Pretty. When you sing. Yeah."

This did little to console Wendy's doubts. She looked from the stage to Dipper, the pink growing to Red, and the Red growing darker. Was there more to her singing than a simple nervousness? Dipper suddenly felt bad- she looked far, far too uncomfortable from something as simple as a stupid request like that. Maybe... maybe he'll stick this one alone.

"No, you know what Wendy?" Dipper held out a hand and sighing, "I'll, uh, just do this one alone."

"Huh?"

"Well, I mean, I guess it would be pretty mean to make you go up there, you know?" Dipper shrugged. "Sorry about that," he added, and started turning away, but stopped himself. He wanted to add something clever- suave and secret-agent like to impress the woman of his dreams into a lady-like faint. Then again, there was that horrible balling in the back of his mouth that prevented him from saying anything further. She just watched him, and he stared back until he bobbed his head in a single nod, and walked away.

_Forget it,_ Dipper thought to himself, _let's just get this over with._ With a fierce grip on the pen, he wrote his name on the sign-up sheet, and declared himself nothing other than the first person to sing. There was a pulling in his head he go later, to see if it was even worth bothering to try, but his heart swore to avenge his lady's hurt feelings. There would be one person he sang to, and that lady would see his apology as she had before, before the populace of Gravity Falls! Or at least the attending members of the town in Greasy's Diner.

Dipper wanted to march back and take his seat next to his sister, and present an unafraid picturesque image of himself. Then he saw the red-headed girl between him and his seat. She was looking away from him; somewhere in the middle of her table her gaze rested as she held her arm. She looked... wounded. Had Dipper done that? Had he brought a level of worry to the girl he wanted to do nothing but impress and please? Dipper grumbled to himself, and realized he had become rooted to the spot.

Fortunately for his worrying self, he wouldn't have to stand awkwardly next to the make-shift stage very long. Only a long minute passed before Lazy Suzan, owner of Greasy's and local cat-lady, stood on the stage and held up the mircophone, tapped it hard until the entire residence of the diner groaned at the loud tone.

"Ah God! It's like hearing my mother nag all over again!" Grunkle Stan whined far off.

"Howdee-doodle folks!" Lazy Suzan called in the microphone, her voice echoing around them, "we're going to get started with the singing! Because singing is so nice. Mister Catface loves singing, don't you?" she said, and reached in her dress and lifted a seriously distressed cat, who began to claw at the microphone, "hey! Bad Carface!" she swatted the cat's head, and stuffed it into a large pocket in her apron, "you can stay there and think about what you did! Bad kitty... Anyway," she turned back to the watchers, who seemed unshaken by her cat's actions, nor where it had been the entire time, "let's get started with... "she squinted at the list in her hands, "Dibber! Come on up here!" she called around.

A hand resting on the bridge of his nose, Dipper marched over the few feet distancing himself from the stage, and stood next to her. "It's Dipper," he told her with a grumble.

"That's okay sweety, there's plenty of chocolate to use with pancake puppies," Lazy Suzan told him with a pat on the shoulders. Dipper stared at her with his mouth hanging open. What... had she said? Did any of that make sense? He watched her march away, patting her tall bun of white hair, leaving him stunned on stage as the small television in front of him flickered on.

Music on the speakers began to pump up, resounding like a stead heartbeat. On the television, Dipper stared as a single title appeared. "Good 'Ol Days" was the title coming to him, and he began to sweat. He had heard the song maybe... once. When Mabel went crazy to it in the shack. He barely knew the words, let along the beat. Now he was sweating, and he felt his grip loosen as his fingers trembled. Why hadn't he considered the possibility of not knowing what was about to come up? If he knew the song he would nail it, to be frank.

_Welp, time to improvise. Or die on stage and haunt this diner until they bulldoze it a few years from now._

Dipper took a long breath, as he felt the music swell, the audible 'Oohoo's telling him of the approaching words. Then, as he predicted, they appeared on the screen. But to his dismay, these words were fast. Really fast. Way, WAY faster than he had wanted them.

"Ah-" Dipper stalled, but swallowed his fear and squinted at the television, _"Up in the bar all smoking_ _cigars,"_ Dipper's head shook for a moment, and he forced himself to continue, _"While we were drinking Irish whiskey straight from the jar talkin' 'bout them better days are not that far,"_ this was akin to a rap, and Dipper was stuggling. He felt the ability to articulate slowly fade as nerves began to take root.

"USE YOUR SOFT PALLET!" Mabel roared from her seat, pumping her fist into the air, "C'MON DIPPER!"

_"Whoever's coming back to mine you better bring the guitar, you play a sad song, yea sing it from the heart, tell a sad story, yea tell it from the start,"_ Dipper continued, nervously glancing around. This wasn't like the stage downtown- they were right in his face. Feet away, staring at him. He wandered if they were watching because if they knew he was just going to stand there and die as he attempted to keep up with the song. _"Pass me on the pain that you made into art yea, piercin' through my skin like a heroin dart When someone's strummin' on the strings and they're spittin' things, everybody's movin' groovin' vibes when the other sings-"_

"Dude, You got this!" Soos called, "just keep doing that thing! Breathing! You know, life and air!"

Dipper nodded, and continued. _"They gon' kill you with their passion and their soul when the first verse drops, you'll be fightin' back the tears and all while another man's crying in his beers and all while his woman's sayin' cheers to it all ain't no shame in the game, just the way we were raised For all we sing about better days, better days." _

"Wait," Manly Dan's voice echoed in realization, "that's no girl! It's a boy! Why does he act like a girl!?"

The snickers around the restaurant were the death wails for Dipper's ears. Burning hot indignation coupled with a wave of nausea stunned Dipper, but just in time. The rap was done, and he could breath. From the distance, he saw his sister's worrying stare, and even Grunkle Stan shouting something at Manly Dan.

He saw in the corner of his eye, the next verse incoming. He wasn't ready. His voice was too dry, his throat gone and left like it had been surgically removed.

Divine light flooded Dipper's sight. A being of beauty and freedom stood and approached Dipper so quickly, he couldn't tell if it was real anymore. Just as he watched her approach in his trance, Wendy leant to his microphone and stood next to him, her eyes closed as she sang.

_"Oh, we'll remember this night when we're old and_ gray," Wendy rang aloud, her voice so soft but vibrant, shocking the amused listeners from their security of watching a frightened young boy perform alone, _"Cause in the future these will be the good ol' days oh and we're arm in arm as we sing away in the future this will be the good ol' days!"_

Dipper stared at her, all the warmth that had been sucked from his throat returning, unfreezing his vocal cords from their fate, and weaving new strength into his mind. He could do this now, with her right next to him.

_"Ten o'clock and it's off, what started as a pub crawl now we're all lost better live it out tonight, tomorrow's gonna cost,"_ Dipper said as the rap came back, but Wendy added to it, looking at him with her warm smile.

_"So get up on that piano boy and play your ass off you're playing real good, everybody sing along if your bang is out of beat, everybody move along,"_ She said, rocking herself slowly back and forth as the beat seemed to infect her.

_"Play us somethin' real we can hang our hopes on sing a rebel song and watch us march along won't you come along?"_ Dipper sang as he too began to sway back and forth with her.

_"Oh these times are hard,"_ Wendy added as a side-note.

_"Yeah, meet Jenny, meet Pete, meet Mary, meet Keith they're buskin' on the streets seven days a week pay a pound, pay a penny, make it full or leave it empty,"_ Dipper continued before Wendy took her breath and took her turn.

_"They play, you listen, that's plenty it's two am now, we're dancing in the rain and uh hanging out of each other like the pain is gone,"_ She added, and turned back to Dipper for him to finish the verse off.

_"These are my people, these are my crowd and I'm never too proud to sing about,"_ Dipper wove his hand around, invested in the act of the song, and no longer aware that there was anyone in the world who may have judged him for being anything else but perfect.

Dipper and Wendy leant into the microphone, and sang together happily. _"Oh, we'll remember this night when we're old and gray cause in the future these will be the good ol' days oh and we're arm in arm as we sing away In the future these will be the good ol' days!"_

Dipper couldn't believe it, but the entire Diner was clapping in beat with them now. As he took his breath, and Wendy and her alternated between the many repeats of _"The good ol', the good ol' days!",_ the populace had actually taken sides with them. From zero to hero, with just one person siding with him. Dipper grinned and took all his gusto and put it into the next verse.

_"Oh I got the whole place singin' yea, singin' this song even the old man there with the paddy hat on singin' ooh ooh, come on sing it sing it, ooh ooh I got the whole place singin' yea, singin' this song,"_ he rapped to his best, ignoring any fault he may have or even the possibility he looked ridiculous. Wendy was cheering next to him.

"YEAH!" Manly Dan suddenly roared, "OWN THAT SONG! LIKE A MAAAN!" he added as he suddenly punched upwards, clearing a Manly-Dan fist sized hole in the ceiling, "DANGIT!" he roared when wood fell past his nose.

Wendy took her turn, _"Even the girl over there with the red dress on singin' ooh ooh, she singin', ooh ooh oh, I got the whole bar drinkin' yea, singin' these tunes and the guys over there with the big tattoos Are singin'-"_

_"Ooh ooh, drinkin' and singin', ooh ooh,"_ Dipper added along with her, and they sang together, side by side.

_"The emo girls with the college degrees and the tag along friends with the fake ID's singin' ooh ooh,"_ the two proudly and happily gave their souls away to the song, tied by the sole purpose of delivering the best possible performance they could.

Together they wove their voices, in a small, crummy little diner in a town of less than two thousand, they threw aside their insecurities and sang together, before everyone.

_"Oh and we're arm in arm as we sing away in the future these will be the good ol' days the good ol', the good_ ol' days," they sang one last time as the song faded away, and they were left alone on the stage, looking into each other's eyes.

Could the roar of applause and salutations from the crowd watching shake Dipper from looking into her eyes? Not a chance. This would be one of those few innocent enough times he could just watch her for what she was, and it wouldn't be at all odd for her. She stared back, that smile of hers growing as she nervously laughed, and then grasped Dipper into a small, one armed hug. She turned away, and whooped back at those cheering.

"Very nice!" Lazy Suzan clapped along as she stepped up, and ushered them away, "that was something, wasn't it?" she said around as she paused the karaoke. "Well, there you have it from the weird boy and his tall girlfriend," she said, and Dipper skipped a beat, and rushed forward to her.

"We're not- I'm not her- she's not my-"

"Dude, it's okay," Wendy laughed, keeping him next to her as they marched from the stage towards Wendy's booth, "no one really listens to Lazy Suzan anyway. More like half-listens."

"But-"

"Dude. Chill," she told him with a rub of his capped head. Dipper wanted to resist her charming wink, but his heart was hers the moment her warm smile reached his eyes. He sighed and nodded.

"Wendy, thanks," he told her with a suppressed smile of his own.

"Nah, I shouldn't have chickened out like that," Wendy told him as she sat down next to her father again, wiping away the ruins of the ceiling by her seat, "you already stood up alone in front of, like, everyone once. I'm not letting my boy do that again alone," she told him.

Dipper could just have fainted and died there on the spot, and he would never have considered to haunt and be a bitter spirit in the afterlife. She had come running to his aid, something he would never forget.

"Haha, nah, that's just... uh," Dipper struggled for words, feeling his heart flutter uncontrollably. When he found himself smiling at her, he then turned and started half-skipping to his seat. There, he sat down, and placed his hands on his chin and stared into space.

"Well, that was both entertainingly embarrassing and stupidly adorable. I need to start carrying a camera with me when you decide to do dumb stuff," Stan informed Dipper as he held his menu in front of his face. "Won't be caught unprepared again."

"Sounds like someone is taking my strategy," Mabel teased Grunkle Stan with a clever grin.

"Taking? Stealing is in my job title, Mabel," Grunkle Stan reminded her and then looked back to Dipper. "Hey? Hey! Kid?!"

"I don't think we can reach him, Grunkle Stan," Mabel told him with a shrug. "He's in spiritual nirvana."

"Eugh. Sounds stupidly hippy," Grunkle Stan moaned and shook his head.

Dipper barely heard a word at the table. His mind was entirely in shock. She had sung again, that beautiful siren voice that capture his mind and bound it tightly away so his heart could soar to untold heights. With her aid alone, Dipper was now at ultimate peace. It was like he had her already at his side, sitting next to her with her arm around his shoulder, holding him tightly. Even with the pressing feeling gone, the boundless beauty of having a chance not just to sing with her near, but to sing along side her...

Dipper didn't know what was waiting for him in the horizon.

Maybe Gideon would bring some horror back to the shack. Maybe a new, horrible horde of creature would march down the front door of the mystery shack. Maybe Dipper would discover a whole new secret, hiding just a few feet in the woods. It didn't matter, really. As long as Dipper had this memory and the thought of that girl, not sitting twenty feet away, ready to back him up at any moment, Dipper dared the world to bring it's worst.

Remembering it all began with a quiet song between the two of them alone in the Mystery Shack, Dipper smiled and rested his eyes as he leant back into the seat.


	18. Sing

_For EZB. Just a little something for all the work you done and all the things you've helped me out with. I know it isn't much, and I doubt I'll ever be able to repay you, but I still hope you like it. Thanks man! BE sure to check out his fanfiction masterpiece, _"The Return to Gravity Falls". _Don't forget to review! Stay awesome, and I will see YOU . . . in the next chapter. Bye-bye! (P.S. Jace and Jessandra belong to EZB. If you don't know who they are, go read _ "The Return to Gravity Falls". _Seriously, it's really worth the read!)_

* * *

"This is how we're going to get in," Dipper states, pointing at the roughly sketched map.

Stan peers at the place that Dipper's finger is pointing.

"You're going through a tunnel?"

"Yeah. We'll take the Trans AM… Have you been able to contact any of the other Zones or the Killjoys in Battery City?"

Stan looks away, jaw tight, "I haven't been able to contact anyone. Not since you left. All the lines are down…" Fear creeps into the pirate radio DJ's voice, "They're jamming the signal…We're alone... Every Killjoy out there is."

The words are solemn and the implications of what is going around them their world is practically breaking down weigh heavily on all of them.

But their mission is clear, clear in the renewed purpose to Dipper's movements, in the light resolute and strong that shines in his eyes.

Wendy observes her friend, leader and husband closely, watching for any signs of pain.

That she, and she alone, knows the extent of Dipper's condition is overwhelming and she wonders if this is what Dipper feels constantly, if he carries this burden this need to protect, to guard, to save as heavily as it seems to rest on Wendy's shoulders.

She frowns at the thought.

"I know what I'm asking of you," Dipper begins suddenly, and instantly he has everyone's attention.

"I know what I'm asking of you," Dipper repeats, playing with the hand-drawn map before his eyes look at each of them in turn, "I know…I know the risks. To all of us. To everything and…"

Words fail him then, and Dipper can no longer hold their gaze.

But he doesn't need to.

Wendy's hand fell on top of his, stilling the nervous fingers.

"We'll get her back."

Soos's hand falls on top of Wendy's, Jess's on top of Soos's Jace's hand on Jess's, actions of a shared and unspoken promise.

* * *

Stan feels fear. Fear for the Killjoys out there, alone. Fear for Mabel and whatever must be happening to her at this very minute. And fear for the five people before him, people whom he's grown to respect and love like brothers, family in this wasteland of a world.

He feels the terror, knows what the most likely outcome of their mission will be.

This could be the last time that he has with them and he'll be damned if he wastes it.

"I'm proud of you. All of you."

Stan is not a man who shares his feelings, however strong, easily.

So the open admission, the raw and rough edge to his voice…

"Thank you," Each of them choruses in their own way.

Dipper stands then.

"Let's take two hours to eat and rest. And then…"

"Then we take her back," Wendy finishes.

* * *

Jace Murdock takes a moment to organize his meager belongings.

He'd been able to rescue only a few things, only able to cram a few memories into a bag before having to evacuate.

The frame in his hands is cracked.

But it holds a priceless picture, himself, Jess, Dipper and Mabel.

He strokes the glass and feels warm, complete.

And he knows he's ready for whatever may come.

* * *

Jessandra Murdock fights the urge to scratch at the eye patch that covers her left eye.

Stan had said that it was only for precaution, to keep the sand and grit of the desert out of the healing cuts.

She occupies her fingers in another way, taking hold of the stuffed animal that sits on her bed.

It's a giraffe, her favorite animal, and she strokes the fur, however worn and matted, with gentle fingers.

It feels strange to be able to see out of only one eye.

Yet she feels it doesn't matter. Soon enough, they'll have Mabel back. And that's as far as she allows her thoughts to travel.

Beyond that lays a deep chasm of uncertainty, and she grips the giraffe harder, using it as a tether to her courage, a reminder of everything she's lost and what she knows she must now fight for.

* * *

Wendy slowly unwraps her bass, shedding the cloths she'd sown herself to protect the instrument from the heat and the dust.

She allows her long fingers to run the neck, the slight grooves on the metallic strings familiar.

She experiments with some chords, some riffs, light and playful, not at all serious before she really gets into it, playing bits and pieces of songs painful to remember.

Painful in the way they bring back memories of a previous life, a life where music was one of the biggest parts of the world.

And yet the pain yields, surrenders to the warmth of other recollections, ones that shine, her and Dipper's wedding, success, triumph, happiness.

Her fingers still of their own accord, no longer frenzied across the strings, as soft notes fill her ears.

She'd been hearing Dipper humming a tune for weeks now, muttering the tentative lyrics.

"_Sing it out, boy you've got to see what tomorrow brings…"_

* * *

The first thing that Dipper does when he steps inside his room is to lock the door.

Then he begins.

His gloved fingers carefully but quickly unpin the pictures on his walls.

He makes sure to tear the paper as little as possible, placing the pieces he has taken down into a haphazard pile on his desk.

He pulls Mabel's pictures last, and places them on top. That way she'll know that he's leaving the drawings to her.

He takes a few moments to gaze at the black and white portraits he's drawn of Wendy and Soos and Stan, of his sister, of Jace and Jess and all the other Killjoys he's met so far.

Chiaroscuro depictions of what was and what remains, what was lost and what still needs to be saved, and protected.

Last, he reaches into his drawer and pulls out the bottle of BL/Ind. pills.

His side has started to throb again.

Dipper slips out two more pills and swallows them dry.

It's time to speak to Stan.

* * *

When Stan hears a noise behind him, he swivels around in his wheelchair quickly, half expecting a Draculoid.

Instead, Dipper is standing there, two things bundled in his hands.

The first is easy to accept.

Stan recognizes it as the small tin box that holds the codes for the two emergency calls.

Two separate wires connected to BL/Ind. Communication lines that would self-ignite within minutes of use.

"You'll need to gather up all the Zone leaders here and head for Battery City, and find the Fabulous Killjoys. Discuss what to do next."

Stan simply nods, he doesn't really want to talk about this, doesn't want to hear the finality and farewell combined in Dipper's voice.

"I won't take that, kid," He says finally, nodding towards the yellow bandana in the brown-haired Killjoy's hands.

Dipper just smiles at him, folding up the cloth neatly before placing it on Stan's desk.

"For Mabel then."

* * *

Soos usually looks forward to loading up the Trans AM.

He looks forward to packing the things he knows the Mysterious Killjoys will need on their journeys; always arranging all the Power Pup labels to face one side, stacking the canteens and water bottles neatly.

But now, all he's loading are gas cans and battery ammo.

He knows they'll need nothing else.

* * *

Dipper is the first there.

He tapes a picture of Mabel to the dashboard and then gets out of the Trans AM, leaning against the driver's door, wondering and dreading if he'll have to go inside and get the others.

They come to the car of their own accord, Jace and Jess sliding into the back, while his wife takes the seat next to him.

Stan and Soos only come as far as the door to the Diner.

It's clear neither man wants to say goodbye.

Soos holds up both his hands, thumbs up, a sad smile on his face.

Stan gives them a firm salute.

"Keep running!"

* * *

They drive silently, passing by Zone marker after Zone marker, stopping only to fill up the gas tank with the cans Soos had stashed in the trunk.

The quiet is pensive, not uncomfortable.

Dipper's side is numb, and he feels no pain.

"Pack up the van, Soos. I'll see if I can get in contact with Thompson. We're going to need a driver."

Soos obeys wordlessly, walking out of the room.

Stan takes a moment to look around, letting his eyes rest on the gigantic black widow that covers the opposite wall.

The flag of the Fabulous Killjoys.

The ones that are the true leaders in this fight against BL/Ind.

The ones that inspired them all to become the Mysterious Killjoys.

He won't fail them.

Whatever happens, he'll see to it that Mabel lives.

* * *

The entrance to the tunnel is unguarded.

BL/Ind. is overconfident in its defenses.

That or they're driving straight into a trap.

He glances to Wendy, then back to Jace and Jess.

They seem just as determined as he is, just as willing and ready to say that the aftermath is secondary if only the future can be bulletproof once more.

The security check booth is coming up ahead, and he steps on the pedal.

The Scarecrow reading the newspaper looks up once, catching sight of the incoming Trans AM on the second glance.

He stands immediately, the Draculoid behind him doing the same, drawing their ray guns.

They fire only twice before Dipper drives the car straight through the security barrier, straight through the two drones.

The brown-haired Killjoy chances a look back, just in time to see the downed Scarecrow reach up and press the alarm button.

* * *

"Sir, they're advancing through the southwest tunnel entrance."

Gideon Gleeful steps forward, peering at the screen that the Draculoid is pointing to.

Mabel's ears perk up at the sentence, but she keeps her head down, calm, as she plays with the blue ball they'd given her.

Blue had been her mother's favorite color.

"The color of the ocean," She'd said, "The color of water, of life."

She'd shared her mother's liking until she'd died.

Now she hates the color.

* * *

Gideon keeps his arms crossed. He has to do nothing. The procedures for such break-ins and attacks are already in place, the Draculoid and Scarecrow units already gearing up to face the intruders have rehearsed them countless times.

The plan is simple.

Robbie's words ring in his ears, "Let them come inside. Let them grab the girl. Let them believe that they have a chance and then, when the time is right, signal my chambers, and I will end it all."

* * *

Dipper swerves the car to a standstill just a few meters away from the main southwest entrance.

He steps out and the others follow.

* * *

Mabel Pines can only listen as Gideon gives out more orders, the mans voice quiet, as if he didn't want her to hear.

From her position on the ground, she can barely see past the white shoulders of the Draculoids. And yet, the tiny colorful flickers on the screens that she can see ignite hope.

Enough for her to look up at the cold fat man and give him a triumphant smile.

The man only returns an obviously forced and ugly grin before looking away.

* * *

The Scarecrows and Draculoids guarding the entrance don't stand a chance.

Dipper takes out the first two, on either side of the door.

Wendy wipes out the Draculoid behind them, and Jess takes care of one coming out of the shadows, no doubt trying to flank them.

They advance quickly and efficiently, their opponents no match for the single-minded drive that pushes each of them to their best.

For a moment, Gideon ponders staying to fight.

His gun is in his hands, preparation to defend the company that he is blindly loyal to.

But those are not his instructions.

And he cannot defy orders.

So, upon hearing the approaching footsteps of the men who are no doubt the Mysterious Killjoys, he removes himself from the scene, leaving the Draculoids and girl behind.

* * *

Jessandra goes into the room first, blasting away the two Draculoids sitting at the monitors in rapid succession.

Wendy and Jace stay at the door, keeping an eye on the numerous hallways and Dipper …

Dipper goes in quickly and Mabel runs to him, taking him into her arms and hugging him tightly.

Her hands wrap around his neck, clutching him, slightly shaking from the fear and uncertainty.

Because she knows, somewhere inside, hidden away, that them coming to get her…

Every rescue, every salvation has a price.

Maybe Dipper senses it, maybe he knows what she's thinking, what she fears because he fears it too. Because with them gone, who will protect her then?

His eyes fly open with the realization and he stands quickly.

"We need to go."

* * *

Gideon knows that it is time.

He takes the communication device into his hand, flipping the switch that will alert Robbie to awaken inside his chambers.

From here, the matter is out of his hands and in Robbie's.

He knows Robbie will not fail.

* * *

The Killjoys continue to move through the long, white hallways.

Mabel leads the way, even as Dipper's stomach twists at having her in front, perfectly exposed to danger.

But she knows these corridors; she knows this place like the back of her hand.

Mother had brought her along on several occasions with Dipper, whenever she had him, showed them where things were and what places were restricted to their curious eyes.

They're almost there, they can see through the glass doors and walls that make up the main south entrance.

It's only a few steps, only a few meters away, they're almost there!

Then there is noise behind them.

Dipper whirls around; the others follow his movement, ray guns up in an instant, flashing with the shots that take the first wave of Draculoids and Scarecrows down.

The white and black clad drones are coming out of nowhere, pouring into the room at an alarming rate, replacing their fallen comrades two by three by four and Jace feels his heart constrict in his chest, squeezing painfully with the knowledge of what will happen.

He has to get Mabel and his friends out of here.

Dipper at least.

Dipper and Mabel have to be the ones that live.

With that goal in mind, Jace comes out from behind the pillar providing him cover, moving steadily towards Dipper.

Wendy must see his intentions, because the taller Killjoy moves towards Mabel, who has come to a halt in the middle of their protective circle, hands against her ears, clearly paralyzed with fear.

* * *

Dipper takes down Drac after Drac, cursing when they keep coming.

He's aware that Robbie is staying back, watching everything, waiting for an opportune chance to strike.

He's about to go confront him, when he feels a warm pressure along his shoulder.

He doesn't even have to turn his head to see Wendy.

His wife is leaning slightly against him, covering his back.

They stand there, together, sharing those precious moments.

They both know they have to pull away, neither wants to; they have to break their formation in order to get out of there.

Dipper is the first to move, the first to step towards a Draculoid that is getting much too close.

He wants to yell at the others to get out, to take Mabel and go, but he knows they won't leave him, they won't leave him behind and as much as that breaks his heart it also keeps it whole, seals it together with the heat of their loyalty.

A Draculoid advances towards Wendy, no doubt prepared to take the Killjoy out from behind.

Dipper doesn't know what possesses him to do it, to grab the Draculoid's mask even as he shoots the drone in the back, point blank.

All he knows is that his side has started to throb slightly, that his breaths are now starting to come in pants.

And maybe it's the brokenness of his chest, the physical part of it, where the Scarecrow had kicked at him and kicked at him to get him to let go of Mabel, just yesterday when this whole mess had started.

But he thinks it's really the discovery that he makes, when the mask, surprisingly pliant, slides right off the Draculoid's head as gravity pulls its dying body down.

The face is familiar, shockingly so, too familiar, too known, too much to take, to handle, to process.

_No, no, no, no, no!_

The data crashes inside his head, a pile-up of thoughts, and he cannot accept it.

The mask falls from his now nerveless fingers and he's aware that he steps back.

And then everything jumps into focus again, and he knows he must trust his senses, what he's seeing is the truth.

There is no denying it.

No denying that the body before him, the Draculoid, the woman, the friend, the former Killjoy, is, was, Candy Chu.

He's killed one of his own.

* * *

Robbie does not like to stand by the sidelines.

He does like to observe, however, when he knows it will serve an important purpose.

He'd observed the Killjoys for months, to determine who the weakest pillars of the rebel organization were.

And who were the strongest.

He'd gotten to the weakest, had persuaded them to give in, to betray.

And the strongest are before him now, they've played perfectly into his trap and all for what?

For love?

He smirks at the notion, feels rage fill him at the thought.

Their love will cost them their lives, all of them.

All four will belong to the company.

But Dipper Pines... Dipper Pines will be his.

He has plans for the brown-haired leader, plans for the man the king desert rat that's been standing in the way of the company for much too long.

Robbie observes him the closest, watches him and sees his chance.

The Exterminator grins as he moves forward, already tasting blood.

* * *

Candy Chu had trusted him.

He was supposed to have been the one to protect her, to advise her, to dissuade her.

She'd not only deceived the others, she'd deceived herself.

And now, here was the truth, laid bare before his eyes.

How long had BL/Ind. been taking them, turning them into something that they weren't?

How many of these men here, masked, were innocent? How many guilty?

Who had joined willingly, and who had been forced?

There is blood on his hands again, either way. The blood of his family, and now Candy Chu's, victims of a nameless war, shrapnel in his heart.

Dipper can feel the guilt gnawing again, feeding on his reawakened insecurities as a leader.

He is distracted, unaware until it is too late.

One second and he reaches forward and takes hold of the dropped Draculoid mask, fingers closing around the latex.

Two seconds and Robbie takes him by the shoulder, pushing him violently against the wall.

He can hear Wendy scream his name right above the blaring of the alarms and the final thoughts rushing through his mind.

He'd brought them here, here to this place, to a fate worse than death because he can see it in Robbie's eyes, in the way the Exterminator regards him with loathing curiosity as he tilts his head to the right.

And Robbie relishes the feeling of power and control that charges through his veins, it's a soaring high that he only feels when chasing the rebels Dipper and his gang of Mysterious Killjoys in particular.

Doubt and fear flicker in his adversary's eyes, for the briefest of moments because he must know, how could he not, what Robbie has in mind.

And then the steadfast rebelliousness is back, the determined will that refuses to yield even now.

Robbie can't stand it.

Dipper feels the heat of the ray gun's muzzle against his neck, feels the finality of it right under his jaw, pressed against his throat so closely he can sense the cold of Robbie's fingers.

Just yesterday, he was the last to fall.

Today, he'll be the first.

He will not close his eyes, will not show fear, and will not beg for his life.

He just stares at Robbie, daring him to do it, to finish it.

Defiant to the end.

Robbie grins.

He looks at the man before him, and he grins.

He has a chance to make perfection, to destroy that dangerous and grating beauty that burns in the flame of life in Dipper Pines's eyes.

And he takes it.

* * *

Jessandra knows she's too late.

Knows it when Wendy screams her husbands name, voice torn by anguish and anger as she runs to help Dipper.

Knows it when Robbie pulls the trigger, when her best friend's eyes close and he slides down the wall.

And she waits, she shoots and she waits, because Dipper cannot die.

Killjoys never die and Dipper was the one of the most daring and strongest Killjoys she'd ever met.

He cannot, he cannot be...

But he is. Dipper is dead.

And there is nothing nothing anymore that Jessandra Murdock can do to save him.

* * *

Wendy Corduroy-Pines sees it all.

She has front row seats, so fucking close, so close…

It wasn't enough.

She feels like it never is as she sees her husbands eyes close, sees his body slide down, down to the ground where he stays, unmoving.

Pain engulfs her chest, flares where she knows her heart should be but it isn't there, not anymore, it's dead, dead, dead, as lifeless as the body of the man who had given everything for her.

And she failed him.

She failed in the most sacred of tasks: the protection of life.

She hears nothing, not even her sister-in-law's piercing, wailing screams register as she charges Robbie, blinded by loss, sorrow, and rage.

She sees nothing but the flashing fire of her shot hitting the Exterminator's leg.

And she feels nothing when a Draculoid's blast collides solidly with her torso, sending her straight into a world of endless black.

* * *

He'd tasted the bitterness of failure before.

First when he'd had to help the wives of his friends into a beat-up bus, trying to give them a chance at continued survival.

And now the taste is back, foul on his tongue and heavy in his stomach, as he sees not only the death of his leader Dipper Pines but then the almost immediate fall of his wife, Wendy.

Mabel's scream is loud in his ears, making them ring and yet he feels nothing.

He feels hollow and tired so tired of everything, of the world and all its injustice and cruelty.

For taking lives, prized timelines, human stories that should have been allowed to keep running.

But he will not allow the losses to be in vain.

The game is still going, the clock not yet up and he grabs Mabel and shoves her against Jessandra.

He pushes them to the entrance, holds the glass door open as shots ricochet around him and then he lets go.

Jessandra's look of confusion please Jace, please we're the only ones left, don't leave me alone, is only momentary before the younger Killjoy understands, comprehends that everything that has happened cannot and must not be in vain.

Jace Murdock turns and shoots.

Fire ignites on his shoulder but he remains upright, keeps his finger on the trigger.

The second laser blow lands a little below the first, and by the time he hits the floor…

* * *

Jessandra knows what she must do.

She's the last one, the last of the Mysterious Killjoys and that knowledge burns in her very soul, scorching everything that lies in its path.

But you're wrong, a voice whispers and he wonders if it's just the adrenaline, just the blood that rushes through his body as he runs, You're wrong because you are not the last.

She's still alive.

The voice sounds like Dipper's and she must be mistaken because she's just seen the man, the leader, the friend and brother fall.

She listens anyway.

She keeps running, running toward the dirty white van that's pulling up, the barely-there light of the new day flashing dimly off of the dusty paint.

She never makes it, something sears in the middle of her chest, and yet she feels that she's done it.

You're wrong. She's still alive.

* * *

Mabel feels hands pulling her into the van.

She feels someone settling her in the back, arms around her shoulders, rubbing up and down.

She feels the swaying of the vehicle as it pulls away, hears the dull thump of laser shots hitting the car.

Someone is calling her name.

Her throat aches.

She finally looks up, turning from Soos to Stan.

"They're gone," she whispers.

Both men listen and do not know that this will be the last time they'll hear her voice.

* * *

Robbie watches impassively as the remaining Draculoids begin to gather the bodies of their dead.

He sends the Scarecrows that have just come in to collect the bodies of the Killjoys, ordering those with stretchers to the three near the door.

He stands over the body of the fallen leader, however, contemplative.

Gideon Gleeful joins his side.

"I saw them get away," He mentions, "The girl was taken by two other Killjoys I don't know."

Maybe he's expecting Robbie to be angry.

The Exterminator though, just nods at him.

His steely black eyes return to the brown-haired man that sits unmoving.

"Once they've all been processed and sterilized, take the others to the Draculoid facility," He says finally, "This one is to go to the S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W Unit,"

The Scarecrows just act upon his orders, unspeaking.

Robbie continues to watch as they pull the limp body onto a stretcher before a third Scarecrow maneuvers it into a BL/Ind. issue body bag, zipping it up immediately.

"What now, Chief Exterminator?"

For a moment, Robbie doesn't answer and Gideon almost turns away to leave.

His voice comes out collected and calm, even through the smirk on his face.

"We've captured all this on our security cameras, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have the data sent immediately to the Director and the Board…And Gideon?"

He pauses for a beat and Gideon can only look at him quizzically before he continues.

"Have it also sent to the Communications Department. I want their deaths broadcasted on all the television sets in Gravity Falls, Battery City and the Zones. We've taken the strongest pillars. It's time to destroy the rest of the Killjoys."


	19. EZB's The Knock Pt 3

Gravity Falls, like every town, had it's own little secrets. Dumping waste, hiding corporate lies, the true origins of the town, just to name a few. Somewhere, deep in the earth, there was a metal lined hallway. Thick, rusting pipes lined the corners and ceiling, where the long unused light bulbs had since become unusable. This was one of those dark secrets, never to be revealed to the public.

While there had been a public to hide it from.

Now, it lasted as a token of neglect and greed of humankind. To cut corners and save on money, desperate to save what they earn. It was a hazard waste dump, placed directly underneath the town itself. Had it not been built to last the test of time for dozens of years, the whole town region would have become a lifeless zone of waste and radioactivity.

Screams of searing metal and hissing sparks flew from a locked door at the end of this hallway as a powerful and concentrated source of heat began to slice away through the sheet of steel. The echoing reverberation cast a ghostly cry along the pipes, who had long since rumbled with anything other than the minor earthquake. Only a few minutes since the sudden burst of light and sound did a pattern emerge and the edges of the large steel door sliced down.

Clanging and rattling down the short flight of stairs the steel door went. Standing illuminated by a halo of outdoor light, the first once the hallway had seen in nearly seven years, was a man in a large bulky protective hazard suit. The person held a large lead lined container in a satchel which hung over their shoulder. He lowered a large welder to the ground next to him, and then peered into the tunnel.

Reaching to it's belt, the figure lifted up a single flare. The small cylinder was lit with a clap against the hazmat suit, and red flickering light streamed ahead. The disturbed dust and insulted peace of the interior tunnels awaited this man as he took his first step down the stairs.

Soon he was walking inside, taking on careful step before the next. The torch was held high above his head as a small axe, tucked in his belt, swayed gently with his movement. Opposite to the axe was a sawn-off hunting shotgun. The long barrel had been cut off long ago, and now sat in the other hand of the adventurer in this dark place of the earth.

It could have been half an hour, a half day, or half week as the man took his time as he walked down the longest, darkest hallway of his life. Purgatory itself seemed a distant, bright, hope for him as he transgressed the bleak, black hallways. Silence was beaten away and held at bay as the careful steps he took coupled with the polymer of his suit and the hiss of the flare all screamed softly into the darkness.

Then, along the edges of vision and sanity itself as the hallway seemed to go forever, a reflection of the red glow of the flare bounced back to him. Excited, the man rushed forward. The echoing steps flew back to him as he finally met the door, half closed and not locked. The man let out a single laugh as he reached out and pushed with his hand.

A small device on his belt clicked and rattled. The man paused and looked down towards it. The Geiger counter; it was reacting.

"Finally. I'm here," Dipper Pines said to himself as he pushed the door fully out of his way and stepped through.

A massive chamber filled with barrels awaited him. Yellow and red in color, these barrels all shared one of two things in common; the symbol for radioactive waste, and that they suffered heavy neglect.

Dipper lifted the Geiger counter from his belt and lifted it to his sight. Even with the flare's red glow illuminating the world around him, Dipper needed guidance towards his true goal.

Not a month ago, as the middle of summer progressed, Dipper hacked into one of the few remaining functional computers at the Gravity Falls town hall. In it, he discovered this location- a facility hidden deep under the town by the Northwest family to dispose and remove all waste product in a cheap, reliable manner. With his discover in tow, he had been able to begin looking for the secret entrance.

That was, at least, when he was still getting sleep.

Dipper stumbled, and felt the waves of sleep-deprivation hit him like a weighted ball in his head. He spotted a observation room to the side of the chamber, and he dragged himself into it, and slammed the door behind him. Instinctually, he flicked on the light switch next to him.

To his shock, the lights did turn on. Dipper laughed inside this suit, and checked the Geiger counter. The room, a small office with a thick, transparent window, was safe for him to be in. He sighed, and reached up with his thick, gloved hands, and pulled off the top of his suit.

Dipper's eyes were sickly and dark. The bags under his eyes had become permanent fixtures of dark violet, portraying many hours of lost sleep. His face was hidden behind a thick brown veil of a scraggly beginnings of a beard. His hair, which he tried to usually keep in order, had become longer and tangled.

It had been months since Dipper had gotten a real night's sleep.

It had been half a year since he hadn't looked over his shoulder each step he took.

Since that knock.

Sitting in a study chair, Dipper rested his neck and let his head fall into his arms. The wheels beneath him, he rolled back against a wall and sighed. This deep, dark place seemed to tempt him to rest. Maybe here, among the fatal fluids in barrels less than a hundred feet away from him, he could close his eyes and rest faithfully at peace.

No. Not here.

Dipper's eyes darted through his fingers and glared at the dark window overlooking the waste dump before him. There was a panel before the window, and he rolled himself closer with a strong push. Flick of a switch here, turn of a knob here, and one final push of a button later, and the lights inside all flickered on.

"Reserve power. Nice," Dipper sighed to himself as he peered into the lit room.

He wanted to rest now. It was in the light that he was safe. Only in darkness did they come. Only in the shadows did he hear the knocking.

So with a heavy grimace direct to his own fatigue, Dipper placed the hood back on, zipped and re-sealed everything, and stood back up. Passing through the doors, he found the counter at his belt once again speaking in it's clicks. He needed to find the strongest source of the clicking.

Walking by piles and clusters of these barrels, Dipper found a large and entirely alien crate in the room. Strong, dark steel told Dipper that this was his target. He nodded to himself as he stepped towards it, hearing the clicks grow more and more. The sole surviving human would need to be quick. He couldn't linger getting as much of the solution as he could. It would be this sample of uranium that would power the gateway beneath the Mystery Shack.

That was what brought Dipper there, drawing him out from his home on a mission other than food and supplies. Two months had gone by, and Dipper now always heard and fought against the knocking at the doors and walls and windows of his home. He needed backup. He needed people. His mind was unraveling faster than his physical abilities as he was slowly drained of strength.

The crate was opened, and there, sitting in three foot-long cylinders was his target- uranium rods. Tossed aside was the flare as he no longer needed the source of light. Dipper grasped a pair of tongs attached to the case and lifted one of the rods up, and into his attached satchel. Radiation sickness be damned- it wouldn't kill him taking the rods back home and into the core of the generator for the portal.

Once all three green-tinted cylinders were placed within his case, he tossed the tongs aside and lifted back up his soon to be only source of light. The tunnels, much to Dipper's displeasure, were still pitch black. Yet, he grinned; there was a single switch by his end. He approached it, and then flicked it up.

While not as bright and enervating as the lights in the chamber, Dipper could deal with the sparse lights in the long tunnel. And so, with a confident chuckle, Dipper closed the door behind him to the chamber and stepped into the tunnel.

Held loosely at his side, the torch illuminated the few scraggly spots of shadow that were left untouched by the hanging lamps above Dipper. He almost wanted to spring his way through the tunnel.

He had run the possibilities of the experiment again. All the speculations of the computers he had wired to the central processor in the shack told him what he would be doing, and what had to be done. The portal had opened a gateway to a space without time. With the correct signature, Dipper could reverse the signature and open a portal backwards, siphoning those who had been lost back into his universe. And, if Dipper's speculations had been correct, not only would everyone be back, but everyone would be returned exactly as they left.

Mabel would still be twelve, Wendy fifteen, Soos... well, however old he had been, and Grunkle Stan as old and grumpy as ever. Everything would be normal again, except for Dipper. He chuckled as he wondered how his sister would cope with her twin being her older brother suddenly. Dipper laughed- she'd probably have a whole slew of jokes and complaints about no longer being the older alpha twin.

Knock, knock.

Dipper stopped so quickly he almost fell forward. Eyes wide as they could manage, Dipper stared ahead. It couldn't be. He was in the light of the tunnel. The light of the flare next to him.

The sound had come from far ahead. It had rattled through the pipes next to him, a telegraphic service of fear that brought Dipper's hopes crashing down into the irradiated earth below him. Then, as he stared ahead, Dipper gasped and shook his head.

"No... no!"

The lights ahead of him were shutting off one by one. Dipper spun around and gasped. It was happening in the other direction as well.

Dipper checked the status of his flare. It was going out. He couldn't be left in the darkness. Never, not once had he been truly out of the light when _they_ came back, and he wouldn't start now. Tossing the dying source of handheld light aside, Dipper scrambled for a second one.

Knock, knock.

The light's edge was only a hundred feet away now.

Seventy five feet.

Dipper gasped as he found the edge of the flare and struggled to light the red within.

Fifty feet.

Twenty five.

Dipper's eyes bulged out of his socket, as the wave of pitch black was seconds from crashing down on him. Blanketed terror descended, and his heart raced against his rib cage. _They_ had found him.

"Why now!?" he begged. Then he shouted aloud- he was now only in the red light from his hand.

Dipper stared and waited. The hum of the lights had been replaced with the icy-still sound of nothing. Even the hiss of the flare seemed muted and ignorable. The sparks and small vapor trail completely ignored, Dipper peered ahead. It was a strange marriage of fear and anger that prompted him to dare look ahead.

Now? Of all times? The decided to show up now and interfere with any chances of safe passage?

Knock, knock.

Dipper spun around to face where he had come from. That had been behind him, and much closer.

Dipper swallowed as his thoughts and predictions for these things seemed to come to truth.

Since the events in spring, Dipper had begun to consider how these things acted and what they did. He had begun to hypothesize that, like ghosts, they were incorporeal.

Unlike ghosts, they lacked phantasmal power, and instead existed like shadows: two dimensional beings that could only interact with that they physically touched.

And in darkness, they could touch quite a bit.

The rattling resonance of the knock slowly faded as Dipper continued to stare ahead. Tentatively, he lifted the flare above his head, further extending the light beyond. The red glow now was fifteen or so feet past him, and yet he saw nothing. With a sigh, he lowered the torch, and slowly turned around.

Dipper turned and screamed louder than he had his entire life as he fell backwards and lost grip of his torch.

A figure stood before him in the shadows, barely outlined in the red glow.

Dipper scrambled back to his feet, drawing his shotgun as hastily as he could. Previously cocked and loaded, Dipper raised it to face the stalker and found... he was alone again.

Dipper's face was covered in sweat as his breath became ragged. He had seen it- a human shape at the very edge of the line of red light. There had been no features on the outline. No face. No clothing. No hair. Just a strange, smooth outline of a humanoid being.

Knock, knock.

Dipper growled and whipped back around. He saw it again. Further back and out of the full glow of the light, Dipper saw the figure exist, staring at him with no detectable eyes of any kind.

Something inside Dipper clicked. They weren't haunting him.

They were hunting him.

He raised the shotgun and fired.

Dipper screamed as the blast of light illuminated the shadows before him for a brief moment, dispelling the specter. He dropped the weapon to his feet and held his hands to his head. His ears were ringing horrible. He aught to have considered the situation, and the fact that he was in a echoing tunnel, rather than outdoors. As the watering eyes focused and Dipper looked back to the ground and spotted his weapon, he found himself fearing something behind him.

He spun around, and shirked again. The shadow he had cast as he leant over the light had allowed one of those to get mere feet from him.

Dipper scrambled back to his feet, and stared in both directions. Hands shaking and fingers numb, Dipper realized he could see multiple shades in the darkness. _They_ had come in number. He couldn't move in either direction. As he considered his problems, he realized that should he bend down and lift his flare, he would grow the cast shadows in one direction or another, and allow them closer. He couldn't do that. He had to use his last flare, and hold one source of light behind him, and the other behind him.

He found some duct tape at his belt and unraveled a strand quickly. With a hastened tug of the hatchet at his belt, he removed the axe and rolled tape around his last flare under the beard of the axe. Then, with a firm grasp, he activated it. Now he had two source of light.

Abandoning his gun to his side, Dipper found his strength. His anger, his desperation, and his survival instincts all swarmed his mind, clouding his fear and his doubt. He gritted his teeth as his fingers clutched tightly against the axe handle through their gloves. With a roar worthy a Viking charge, Dipper lunged forward, slashing up with his red-torched axe.

The shades dropped out of existence as he ran forward, swinging at each one as they watched him. Three powerful swings that all struck nothing later, Dipper turned around, checking behind him. There were many watching him still, silently following him like gliding images.

Again and again Dipper swung and spun, becoming a deranged whirlwind of red light. The axe occasionally cut into the empty pipe on the side, which Dipper became strangely amused from. He snarled and laughed at them. "Knock knock! HA!" he roared as he hacked into the metal piping next to him, and then charged again.

The next swing he made had him trip. His axe fell from his hands and slid under the very piping he had attacked. He gasped and dove for the weapon, but too late- it was gone from him. He couldn't get it now. So he lay on his back and held the flare above him.

They had gotten too close to him that time. Only two feet away, and Dipper stood up, hyperventilating to keep air in his lungs. Standing up, he could only come to one conclusion.

Run away.

Dipper turned and ran, letting the shifting light of the flare bounce red glow back forth from ahead of him to behind him. They appeared and vanished behind him in groups too large to count, like flickering ghosts only seen in the dreams of binary demons.

He saw them. He couldn't see them. They were ahead of him. They were behind him.

Dipper's eyes met blue light, and he saw the stairs. Light poured over him, and Dipper leapt up and out of the building into the abandoned, cracked street in ruined Gravity Falls. He was next to the movie theaters, by a cleverly disguised outhouse entranceway. His truck was only a few feet away, and Dipper laughed to himself as he looked up the orange-blue sky.

Knock, knock.

Dipped turned and scrambled away. He could see them, still in the shadows, staring at him.

"Leave me alone!" he told them, begging them. "I don't know what you are, but leave me alone!"

He had said this to them many, many times before. Almost every night he pleaded for peace and solitude, but never had he been granted it in almost five months. Dipper shook his head, and saw above him, in the windows of the buildings around him.

They were all there. Dozens- no- hundreds of them in windows just out of the light, staring down at him. Anywhere without the light boring down on them Dipper saw their form, watching back.

Dipper turned and ran towards his truck, ripping open the door to the interior. As he turned it on and reversed the gears, his heart sank.

He was only thirty minutes from home, but the clock in his car told him of the coming night. It was already seven. He had thirty minutes left of daylight.

Time to speed.

Dipper floored the accelerator and took off backwards. The truck hurtled backwards and nearly hit one of the decrepit remaining cars in the street. Dipper slammed the brake, spun the wheel, altered the gears again, and slammed down on the gas.

The truck was hurtling towards the shack, through the town, around the rubble and ruins of the town he once cared so much for. He was now in the woods, and checked the skies. Orange and red. He didn't have much time-

Dipper screamed as he spun the wheel. A herd of deer had taken on one of the overgrown parts of the road. He swerved to avoid them, and before Dipper knew it, Gravity had inverted. The cracking of glass and tearing of metal sounded all around Dipper as he felt all his body twist and turn with the spinning roll of his truck. An eternity later, Dipper felt the correct pull of Gravity apply to him, and he groaned.

Glass had spilled all around him. His Geiger counter had become crushed under the collapsed half of the roof next to him, and Dipper felt a sharp pain in his foot. It wasn't broken, but he wouldn't be walking correctly for a while. The truck itself? Gone.

Dipper pushed open the door and hobbled out onto the street. The satchel of uranium still tugged down on his shoulder, and Dipper gasped as he felt the pain of his foot. Glass cracked under it as he looked around, and gasped again. Not from pain in his body, but from fear and realization.

They were in the forests. In numbers too high to count, Dipper saw them forming under the growing shadows of the woods around him. He was not alone. He could never be alone now.

Dipper didn't care about the pain in his foot. He needed to run again.

With a heavy push off his uninjured foot, Dipper took off running down the street. He was only a few minutes away, and his speeding had bought him some time. But now he hobbled at a pace he couldn't agree with. He needed to go faster! It wasn't fast enough. Only then did he turn down the gravel path leading to the only upkept building in the world- Gravity Falls World Famous Mystery Shack.

The night was coming. Dipper saw them all around him. Behind trees and shrubs and bushes and rocks and boulder, they all stared without eyes as he desperately ran his way towards his safe home.

They sky grew darker. The shadows deeper and darker, and more began to appear. Out of the forest, under trees in the path, Dipper avoided them with cries of panic and desperation.

"Get out of my way!" he yelled quickly, trying to best save his breath.

More followed him, appearing just in his field of vision. How many had he seen today?

Knock, knock.

Against the trees of the world around him, Dipper heard them knocking. Never once did he see them move, but he heard it. Their arms were at their sides, locked in place as they always faced him, but he heard that sound against wood and stone and bush.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock...

There it was finally. Dipper, on the edges of his own ability to reason, saw it. The Shack!

He heard the pigs squealing as he ran by them. They were probably desperate to see if he was okay, but he couldn't wait. They had never been harmed by these creatures, and Dipper had a mission to complete. It wouldn't be long now.

Climbing up into the porch, Dipper flicked all the lights on as quickly as he could. He checked behind him once and his mouthed dropped.

Stretching as far back as the curve down the hill at the gravel path, every single foot of space was taken by the beings. They remained out of the light, yet their call was still pressing.

Knock, knock.

He slammed the door behind him, turning on all the lights by the panels next to him. It would hold them off long enough for him to get down below and begin warping people into the world again. He would no longer be alone.

Then it happened again. Dipper clasped his hands to his ears painfully, pressing the material of the suit against the sides of his head. The screaming, so painful and endlessly drowning out his own thoughts he wasn't sure he was alive anymore. He could feel something popping in rapid succession above him and behind him.

The screaming stopped, and Dipper shivered. His voice trembled as he realized what had happened.

All the functioning lights had been shattered. Dipper blinked, and saw the front door opening slowly, as it had before.

He dared not wait. Turning away from the descending doom, Dipper shoved open the panel by the wall, and slipped inside. The moment he passed into the dimly lit room, he heard it behind him.

Knock, knock.

They were following him, and he had little time to react. He spun around, nearly tossing himself down the hallway towards the old elevator. The button had never been slammed so hard before by Dipper in his seven years in using it. The doors did open, and Dipper rushed inside. As the gating closed behind him, he turned and saw the plywood being torn aside.

They still followed him.

Thirty seconds later, he rushed out of the bottom of the elevator. Flicking on all the lights around him, he rushed past the turning on computers and sensors and ran into the test room. He found the tube opening for fuel, and quickly opened his satchel. Without even touching one of the cylinders, he dumped them inside, letting their faint green glow fall into the pit.

He tossed aside the satchel and pulled off his protective gear. He would need his fingers to work miracles as he got the system up and running. Stumbling back into the computer room overlooking the portal system, Dipper hissed as he felt the pain in his foot.

Knobs were turned and buttons pressed. He was rushing and keeping on top of his progress as the entire system booted up. Ancient and outdated, the computers beeped and whirred loudly to life. His mind registered all the sounds he expected, and the one new one.

His eyes glanced quickly over to the elevator, and he stopped.

The elevator was gone. It had been called up.

And he heard it rumbling closer.

Sweating all over and his eyesight focusing in and out, Dipper let his hands become a blaze of movement as he punched in the parameters of the soon-to-be experiment. He already knew of the dangers he was causing by doing this. The wide-spread destruction of the last portal opening was the prime cause of the town's lack of repair. And the last time it had charged up, it had allowed the bursts of anti-gravity to be spread out. Dipper's calculations had told him a dangerous possibility. There was a good chance that when powered up, a powerful pulse of gravity would be created. Dipper could be tossed from the ceiling to the floor again and again.

It was a risk he had to take. He finally turned on the portal, which crackled loudly and began to whir and flash with bursts of bright light. Dipper shaded his eyes as he peered into the rainbow of colors on the other side. Space, time, energy, matter- all of it was circumstantial to the power of that mysterious portal.

Dipper heard it open behind him, and he spun around. The elevator had come, and a figure stood inside it.

"NO!" Dipper screamed as he turned and ran to the automated door. It opened and he ran inside, just as a large bolt of electricity surged out and splintered rock before him. As Dipper held himself back, he felt his hair rise upwards. Dipper felt very light.

He was floating in the air.

"Crap! NO! NOT NOW!" he shouted as he flew towards the ceiling. He needed to get as close to the ground as possible before the Gravity Hiccup ended. His feet pressed against the rock ceiling and he threw himself back towards the ground, nearer to the portal than the door.

Gravity uncaringly re-asserted itself just in time, and Dipper fell eight feet to the ground, nearly landing entirely flat. Heat flooded Dipper's nose as he felt the hard surface pressed into his entirety. Blood dripped from his face as he pushed himself upwards, and finally stood to his feet.

The Dipper saw something.

He had to have died. Or be unconscious, dreaming. What he saw before him was impossible. He blinked and pinched himself. It wasn't... couldn't... be.

"Dipper, let us in."

Dipper gasped and stepped away from the shorter figure with long brown hair. Confusion flooded his brain as he stared at someone he had not seen for seven years. She stared up at him, with cold dark eyes not fitting her being.

"Mabel," he whispered.

She looked exactly like she had seven years ago. Back when Dipper threw himself with the possessed man into the portal. She still wore the scars of the fight from that night, exactly eight years ago at midnight. Bruised eye, scratched face, and dirt in her hair- it was his sister.

"I... don't understand," Dipper shook his head, staring around for any more signs of the other shades, "how is this possible? You've been gone!" She stared at him, and Dipper felt the pull of gravity loosen again. Yet he was ready, and clutched onto the pole near the wall. As he was lifted into the air, he watched his sister. She seemed entirely unaffected by the works of gravity, or lack thereof. Her hair did not twitch, and her clothing did not jostle.

"You're... not my sister," Dipper realized out loud. "You're one of them." She nodded he was dropped the ground roughly. "What are you?!" he demanded heatedly.

"Remnants," she calmly said.

"Of what?!" he shouted

"Your world."

"Of people?"

"We exist because you exist here," the Mabel look-alike explained. Dipper blinked as he stood up. "Without you, there is no here."

"What... do you mean?" Dipper asked.

"There is no here. There is no anywhere without you here. Dipper Pines," the voice of Mabel stated, "let us in."

"In WHAT?!" he bellowed.

"...you."

"Let you into me?" Dipper asked with a grin. "What are you talking about?" Dipper then nodded and looked to her. "You think I've forgotten about you all. You're memories of the people I've left behind because of all of this, and you want me to let you back into my heart sort of thing."

"No," she bluntly said.

"Then... what do you want?" Dipper asked as he carefully watched her.

"Your body. Let us into your body," she said, stepping closer. Dipper saw her form began to distort and warp as she stepped away from the portal, slowly fading into the shape of the other specters. "When you return, we will be carried with you into the other realm."

"Other realm? When _I_ return!?" Dipper shouted as the Mabel began to drain of color and shape. "No, I'm not going anywhere! I'm bringing them... back..."

Dipper's head may have exploded as he realized what it meant. What this creature was implying. Dipper stared at her. He started to laugh. He couldn't believe her. Couldn't believe it. It had been a joke from the beginning. It was laughable.

The Apocalypse.

He hadn't lost everyone.

Everyone had lost him.

"Let us in."

Dipper's eyes had fallen to the ground as he let the realization sink in. Everything he had done to survive for the past eight years had been in a bid for survival in... a copy realm? A sort of dimension identical to his? He didn't know.

Behind the shade, he saw the portal shimmer with light and energy. Dipper still had expected and hoped that he would see someone come through that circle, and re-unite him with sanity, but now he understood what he needed to do.

"No," he told Mabel. "I'm going home alone."

"YOU WILL LET US IN!"

The screaming of the world once again blared into the air, causing Dipper to fall to the ground, hands over his ears. He was floating in the air, but it didn't matter. All that he could do was wander if the pain in his ears would kill him or not.

Dipper heard something louder and then heat rushed over him. Looking out from his clamped eyes, he saw the shadow-creature before him burning up. A whole had been pierced through it from a burst of electricity from the portal. The screams began to fade away, and Dipper took to listening to his heart, since his head still swam with pain.

He pushed off the wall and flew into the portal.

Dipper felt the tear of his cells begging to stay together as time and space bent around him. Every fiber of life screamed to stay attached as he felt seconds stretch and rip from him and his mind like as muscle from bone. He could only pray that the thunder of color and sound billowing around him like typhoons of paint would be caring enough to let him pass through in once piece.

Everything went dark and Dipper hit the ground with a thud.

"Ow," he groaned as he rolled onto his back and looked up. The lights of the portal were fading. Behind him, the remaining light vanished as the world around him was cold and quiet.

Dipper let himself stay on the ground for a moment, awaiting a sound or reaction to what had just happened. Yet nothing came to him.

He pushed himself up, staying gentle with his injured foot. It was very dark in the room. Not just any room- the exact same room he had just come from. He was in the portal chamber under the Mystery Shack.

Instantly Dipper thought back to his scans of the portal. His readings had told him that he had sent everyone to a dimension devoid of time. Which... if he had gotten it reversed, where somehow he was sent to a dimension without time, he would be returning to the exact same point when he left. Yet... there wasn't any sign of Grunkle Stan or Mabel, who should have been here, breathing heavily with Grunkle Stan.

Yet it didn't line up with what was actually happening. It was dusty, cold, and entirely forgotten. Dipper wracked his brain. Had he scanned everything wrong? Did he send himself somewhere else now?

He stepped forward, away from the untouched portal behind him, and found the sliding door locked into place. That wouldn't stop Dipper. His hours hunting had made him a muscular, fit man. The door was roughly pulled aside, and Dipper stepped into the room. The computers were all off and dusty.

Dipper saw some of the newspapers he had left behind, and the seat he had sat in only a few minutes before. The lights were all off, and Dipper felt the solitude as he realized what had had done.

The couldn't sense a dimension of time through the portal because the portal sent him back to this one. In the future.

Dipper slipped onto the desk, his arms around his head as he clenched his teeth, fighting back the tears. He didn't want to accept it. He couldn't allow all the work and fear to be torn from him and shredded into nothingness. He wanted people to say his name again, real people who cared about him. He missed that. He missed family, friends. His sister.

Anger surged through him and he stood, yanking the paper up with him. With grunts and gasps he tore the paper apart hastily, angered with it's resistance. He needed to vent, he wanted this feeling of hopelessness, of being so tired he couldn't think straight to be gone. His knees and foot gave away, and he fell to the floor, hitting it with the remains of the tore up paper.

The shards fell around him, and Dipper wiped his eyes away as he began to cry. What could he do now? Those things would be waiting for him, or they would sense he would be back sooner than later. He would just begin the cycle of torture again. Something he couldn't deal with. Death would be more preferable.

The paper on his fingers rugged roughly against his fingers and he lifted his hand. Yet... as he rubbed his fingers to his face, he smelt something he hadn't for the longest time. Ink. Fresh ink.

Dipper looked down to the shredded newspaper, and his hands. They were covered in the ink in the pages. Dipper examined the paper itself. It wasn't rotting and frail like the others he kept upstairs in his room had been- it fought back, resisted his pull. The acrid smell of ink hit his nostrils, and he looked to the date of the paper.

August, twenty fifth. Two thousand nineteen.

The currant year.

Newspapers had stopped being printed for seven years. Dipper scanned the headlines- a sports team was merged with another team, a new political scandal was under way, Gravity Falls announced it's new memorial home for an event seven years ago-

Dipper tossed the paper aside and rushed for the elevator, praying it was still functioning. Thirty seconds after calling the elevator with a push of a button, the gates slid aside, and Dipper stepped in.

He rose into the air, counting the seconds as he glided through his life like he were in water. Atop the elevator shaft, the grates slid open and Dipper found the same hallway as it was. No lights were, on, but he saw the cracks of light pouring through. The most angelic of voices called Dipper closer, echoing through the panel ahead. Sneaking his way closer, he overheard the tone.

"...you need to consider going back sooner or later," a gruff voice stated.

"I can get away being a day late. It's not like anyone even does anything the first day of college," a bubbly womans voice answered.

"Your mom and dad are going to kill me if I let you stay," the voice of Stanford Pines rebutted. "College is expensive, and you skipping out-"

"I know!" the other whined, "c'mon! Tell them that I'm helping re-build the shack a little bit? Soos would like it if I helped anyway."

"He's already getting help from the Corduroy kid," Stanford told her. There was a saddened groan, and the voice of Stan sighed. "I know you want to stay, kiddo. I get it. But you need to-"

Dipper couldn't wait any longer. He needed to see them. To know he wasn't insane, or in heaven, or in some mad hologram that project sound and brought Dipper to life in a way he hadn't felt for eight years. He reached forward slowly as he listened, and let his knuckle rest against the panel with a soft thud.

"Did... you hear that?" the other voice asked.

"Huh? Sweetie, my hearing isn't what it used to be."

"Shh," the other stated, and Dipper felt the pressure of footsteps coming closer. Dipper silently snickered to himself as he realized he was going to perform the sound he had come to dread more than any other in his life. He pulled back his hand...

Knock, knock.

Someone gasped, and rushed closer. Five loud beeps later, and the panel unsnapped loudly, pouring light into Dipper's face. He stared out as a person pulled out the door entirely. Dipper stared at the woman. She was just a bit shorter than him. Long brown hair fell in a ponytail on her shoulder, but those brown eyes could not lie to Dipper. He knew the light that shone in them like the back of his hand, even though so many years had passed.

"Mabel," Dipper sighed as he smiled.

"Dipper?" she asked, her voice breaking quietly.

"Hey. Mind if you let me in?" he asked with a grin.

As a tidal wave of screams and shouts, questions and demands, and hugs and kisses slammed into Dipper from his long, lost sister, he could only smile.

Dipper vaguely heard them telling him about how he's been pronounced dead, and how long he's been gone for. He heard them demanding to know where he's been, and how he got back. After a while of just hugging them and letting the tears fall on his face, Dipper realized they were taking him up into his room, where two separate beds awaited him. Mabel wouldn't stop informing him of all the changes that had happen since he had gone.

Wendy had become a park ranger.

Soos was the new Mister Mystery, and ran the Mystery Shack.

Stan retired and lived here with Soos.

Mabel was in college.

And Dipper... Dipper Pines was back in it all. Seven years late, and out of touch with the world, but he was back. He was so numb with bliss he barely felt Waddles brushing against his leg as he laid back on his bed.

He looked over to her, tears streaming down her face as she looked down at her beaten and bruised brother. He felt his own tears welling up in his face. The bed was smaller, but it was his bed.

Dipper closed his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

_Heya folks! EZB here- writer of The Knock series and proud contributor to Click as a whole. I'm really glad to be able to wrap up my first ever short horror story for you all. This has been a unique experience as a writer, and I'm proud of what I've been able to produce for you. I hope you guys enjoyed the ending- it was desperately difficult for me to pinpoint what I wanted in the finale, but I think I got it. After months of waiting, it is done._

_Thank you all for reading Click, The Knock, and I hope you enjoy tEI2.0's stories to come._

_Seeya!_

* * *

_Well. that was a hell of a ride. Man, I can't tell you how many scares this story gave me, but in the end it was worth it. I can't tell you how awesome it was to have this story posted on Click. EZB, you rock w__ith the scares you give, bro. Keep it coming!_

_Now for those of you who actually follow the stuff I write, I'm gonna let you know now that THIS WILL BE ON HIATUS. For the time being, unless me or EZB think of something. But for now, I'm gonna be focusing on my other stories like "30 Days of Night", "Ghost Rider", and my latest story in the Ninja Turtles fandom "Nobody", which I'm gonna say now, does tie in with GR. I won't say how though. If you wanna know, you'll just have to read and find out. And lucky for those who don't know alot about Ninja Turtles, no knowledge is need of the show itself to understand the story. Just a basic knowledge of the characters, like who they are, ya know?_

_Anyway, once again, EZB and I __both hope you enjoyed "The Knock". Stay awesome, and remember: **Zdwfk rxw. Wkh jds lq wkh grru... lw'v d vhsdudwh uhdolwb. Wkh rqob ph lv ph. **_

** Duh brx vxuh wkh rqob brx lv brx?**


	20. Elevator Music!

_I'm warning you guys now, this is gonna get weird and probably OOC. But hey, that's never stopped me before! This takes place in SuperGroverAway's Future Pines AU. If you have read any of his works, get a life and do it. He's got some of the best short stories on the site! And thanks a lot for letting me write this out, given it's weirdness. Enjoy!_

"Hey, Dipper…you do know it was a mistake, right?"

A brunette-haired man and a red-haired woman both strode over towards the colossal, glass elevator at the end of the brightly-lit, blue-colored walls.

Dipper didn't even bother to answer his wife. He just gave himself a face-palm while dragging his feet over towards the elevator.

The incident was that Dipper had accidentally sat on his niece's pet bird that she had found in the park where Dipper, Wendy, and Mabel and her children, Gladys and Finn, spent their time and played at.

For some unknown reason, the bird that Gladys found had been wounded, so she took it under her wing and (with her mothers help) decided to house it until it was healed. Jolly old Mabel help feed fed it, while Gladys helped house it, and made sure it was completely healed…

However, when Gladys saw that it was all better and that it could fly, sing, eat heartily, and live on it's own…Gladys did not let it go free in the wild. Instead, she somehow convinced Mabel to let her keep it as a pet.

This bird was happy, cheery, and could sing beautiful songs all day long…much to the dismay of Dipper. Even though the girls and Finn loved it, it easily drove Dipper up a wall.

One particular day, Gladys had asked Dipper to bird sit for a couple of days while her, her brother and Mabel went out of town, and he had let the bird out to stretch it's wings. Unfortunately Dipper had been kept up all night due to the bird's constant "lovely" singing, and he was walking around drunkenly with huge bags underneath his eyes and his eyelids were heavy.

The sleepy man had opened the fridge and began making himself some breakfast, which consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a cup of hot coffee.

As Dipper drunkenly walked around the kitchen and grabbed the jar of jelly, he noticed something highly awkward.

"Huh…" he said, scratching his head, "when did the shower get in the kitchen?"

Dipper shrugged and walked out of the "kitchen", and began walking towards the stove, getting the pot for the coffee.

As Dipper was preparing to make his sandwich, he noticed that the jelly had a strange, "blue-color" to it.

"Huh," he said, as he spread it on the bread with a butter-knife, "I wonder what flavor of jelly Wendy bought at the grocery store…meh, it's probably some new flavor or something. I gotta tell her to get some strawberry-flavored jelly next time."

The man slapped the top bread with peanut butter on top of the jelly, and made a sandwich. He lifted it up and took a large bite out of it. He chewed for a second, and suddenly, his eyes widened and he spit it back out.

"Holy crap," declared Dipper, spitting out the bitterly-flavored remains of his sandwich, "what kind of crappy jelly was that?"

He picked up the jar and read the label with his eyes squinted.

"Heh… Heh…Heh-air…Hair…Gel…"

Dipper rolled his eyes and put the hair gel back into the refrigerator, uttering, " Man, why'd Wendy do that, buying awkwardly-titled jelly-flavors that taste like hair products…"

Dipper then reached for his small mug of coffee and wobbly walked into the living room, prepared to sit on his couch and watch the mind-grueling morning-time television he did every morning.

But Dipper didn't notice the birdie on the couch. Dipper sleepily approached the couch, and he prepared to plant himself on it. The bird gazed up at the big, posterior that hovered above him, and got closer and closer until…

…the bird sang it's swan song.

"I know, Wendy. You heard the vet, they can't do anything for it. The bird's dead."

Dipper held the dead bird in his hands out in front of her. They had gone to see the vet, to check if there was any way to help out the dead bird. But no, the bird was long gone.

When Dipper had sat on it, he cracked it's spine, both paralyzing and killing it. Basically, it was over before they even got there.

Wendy looked over at Dipper and said, "Dude, Gladys is gonna kill you when she sees what you did to her bird."

"I already told you," argued Dipper, "I sat on it by mistake! Besides, Gladys is understanding, she knows I wouldn't do it on purpose…I think…"

The two stopped in front of the elevator, and Dipper pushed the large, circular button with the picture of the arrow pointing downwards. When he pressed it, the button began shining a yellow-like color, and the sound of the elevator's humming could be heard coming up.

The elevator's bell dinged, and the golden doors slowly slid open. The husband and wife both stepped in. The small room smelled of freshly-bought carpet, and the reflective, silver walls were polished beautifully and diligently.

There was a very radiant light on the ceiling, and the floor had a crimson-like carpet on it, and some free-form jazz music was playing on the speakers on the ceiling of the elevator.

It sounded like something you'd hear on the Weather Channel when it would be broadcasting about the local weather in one's area.

The golden doors slowly slid shut, and then came the soft humming and light turbulence of the elevator.

Dipper gulped and got a little nervous. "Never really liked elevators."

Wendy rolled her eyes, gave a small smile and answered him.

"Relax dude," she assured her husband , "we'll be out of here in a few seconds."

The elevator stopped, and the golden doors slid open once more. A young businessman with blonde hair that was combed neatly, a clean and pressed suit-and-tie, and a brown, leather briefcase, stepped inside.

His face was awkward. He had large, anime-like blue eyes and a small mouth and nose.

When the businessman laid eyes on them, he nodded his head once, as a type of greeting.

Dipper raised his palm and said, "Hello."

Wendy raised up her and stuck out her middle and index finger in a peace symbol, and said, "Yo."

Dipper scooted aside to make room for the quiet, awkward-looking businessman.

The golden doors slid shut once more, and the digital numbers on top of the doors began changing again.

6...5...4...3...2...

Suddenly, a loud thud could be heard outside the elevator walls and it stopped. It stopped dead right in it's tracks.

The three odd fellows exchanged confused glances as to what on Earth just happened.

Dipper suddenly turned towards Wendy with his pupils shrunken with fear, and interrogated in a speedy voice filled with dread, "Wendy …what just happened?"

Wendy shrugged and replied, "I dunno, dude. I think the elevator stopped or something."

"Stopped?" replied Dipper nervously, his eyes widening with fear. He suddenly began speaking very rapidly.

"How can it stop? When elevators stop, they open, what do you mean it 'stopped', how can you say that with a straight face, is this some kind of sick joke, can we run out of air in here, how many fingers am I holding up, what's my mother's maiden name, what's the capital of Texas?"

"Whoa-whoa, hey…" answered Wendy, raising both arms and putting out her palms in front of herself as a way of telling Dipper to calm down, "chill, dude. I'm sure we can contact someone from the outside…"

Her eyes wandered around. All she saw were the speakers, a fire-extinguisher in the corner of the room, and the small dial of buttons on the side of the door.

Wendy approached the buttons, and observed them for a second. She observed a large red one that stated, "In case of emergency, press button".

She pressed it firmly. There came a loud, annoying buzzing sound.

All three waited for something to happen, anything. But nothing happened. Everything remained as it was.

Just then, the elevator music slowly died away, being replaced with an irritating static sound, and then it slowly converted into a man's voice.

"…Ell…Hello…can…one…here…hello? Hello!"

Wendy stepped forward and answered the man at the speaker. "Hey, uh, yeah, we can hear you, dude!"

Dipper leapt forward in front of Wendy and began yelling, "Hey what's the big idea?! We've been down here for like, ten or fifteen seconds or something, and it took you this long to realize this? Wow, what a crappy monitoring system you have here!"

The man on the speaker responded with, "Yeah, uhhhhh, sorry uhhhhh, we're having some technical difficulties with your elevator right now, but, uhhhh, don't worry, we're working real hard to get it fixed as soon as possible…yeah, give me a doughnut with sprinkles….with sprinkles you idiot, not custard… anyways, yeah, we should, uhhhhh, have your elevator fixed in a jiffy. So, uhhhh, just sit tight for now."

"A 'jiffy'?" declared Dipper, his eyes widening and a light sweat beginning to pour down his face, "That's too long! I can't stay here locked up in a tin can! You gotta let us outta here!"

"Please sir, just relax. Everything will be alright, this may only take a minute or two…yeah, let me get some of that pork fried rice…"

Three hours later…

"Ohhhh…" groaned the brunette, while lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling with half-closed eyes, "how long…how long have we been here?"

The businessman was sitting down on the floor in a corner with his elbows on his knees and his legs crossed with his hands on his cheeks with his eyes closed.

When he heard Dipper's voice, the businessman opened his eyes and yanked up the sleeve of his suit.

"Hmmm…about a good three hours…"

"God! I am so…freakin'…BORED!" exclaimed Wendy, slapping her forehead in annoyance. Shs, too, was lying on the floor. Standing seemed too overrated at this point in time.

All three groaned in annoyed tones, as a way of agreeing with him.

"Hmph, so this is where it all ends, in an elevator." said the anime-eyed businessman out-loud to himself, "Trapped in here with two strangers, and a dead bird. The most important meeting of my professional career with a Japanese Capcom executive and I missed it entirely. Well… at least I still have my personality…"

Dipper blinked twice, and his eyes slowly swung over to the businessman, just sitting there, sighing and groaning like there was no tomorrow.

Suddenly, Wendy's boredom got the best of her, and she got an idea. A squiggly, goofy smile spread across her lips, and she said, "Hey…dude…"

The businessman's large blue eyes fell on the woman, and replied, "Yeah?"

"I got an idea…"

The businessman arched his eyebrow in curiosity. Wendy slowly got to her feet, and said, "Let's play catch…" she held up the dead bird, "with this!"

"Um," began the businessman, slowly looking from left to right, "No thanks."

"Aw, c'mon, dude! Live a little!" replied Wendy.

"Wendy," Dipper said, while staring up at the ceiling lights with his back on the floor, "the guy said 'no'. Just leave him alone."

Wendy ignored Dipper, and that same, stupid silly grin appeared on her face once more. Dipper thought the heat in the elevator finally got to her.

"Catch!"

The redhead reared her arm backwards, and tossed the dead bird. As it sailed through the air, the businessman gasped and his eyes widened. With his mouth opened, the bird accidentally flew inside his mouth and lodged itself into his throat.

The man suddenly stood up and began coughing and gasping while clutching his throat.

Dipper instantly whirled around to see the man's face changing colors and tears beginning to run down his cheeks.

"Wendy!" interrogated Dipper, getting to his feet, "What'd you do?"

Wendy scoffed, still with that bored expression on her face, and replied, "What? It's not my fault he's a horrible catcher."

The businessman fell to the floor, squirming and still clutching his neck as he coughed and gasped relentlessly.

Wendy cupped her hands around her mouth and declared, "You're supposed to catch it with your hands, not your mouth!"

Dipper said, "Wendy! We gotta help this guy!"

For a moment, Dipper began pondering out-loud, "Ok-ok, what did they teach me back in elementary school about when someone was choking? It was something weird, but what was it?"

He thought for a moment, and then suddenly, it came to him.

"Oh yeah! I remember now!"

Dipper got on the floor, and began rolling around, chanting, "Stop, drop, roll! Stop, drop, roll! Stop, drop, roll!"

Dipper stopped rolling on the floor and quickly glanced at the man still on the floor, coughing and choking madly.

"It's not working!" shrieked Dipper. He got back on the floor, and began rolling and chanting even faster now. "Stop-drop-roll-stop-drop-roll-stop-drop-roll-stop-drop-roll!"

"Wait, dude!" declared Wendy, "I know what to do!"

Wendy sprinted over to the case that contained the fire-extinguisher, and she smashed the glass with the small hammer. She tore out the extinguisher, and began spraying the foam full-force at the choking man on the floor.

White mist surrounded the entire place as Wendy gushed the foam all over the businessman's body. But, nothing. The man was still choking, but with cold foam all over him.

Dipper suddenly gave up. He bent down and ripped the businessman's hands away from his neck. In return, Dipper picked up the choking man by the collar, and violently shook him while screaming at the top of his lungs, "STOP CHOKING! IT WAS FUNNY AT FIRST, BUT NOT ANYMORE! DIDN'T YOUR MOTHER EVER TEACH YOU TO CHEW YOUR FOOD?"

Dipper stopped shaking him, and the man persisted and kept on choking while pointing at his own throat.

Dipper, still clutching the gagging businessman's shirt-collar, raised his hand and began slapping the guy's face.

As Dipper slapped him silly, he hollered, "Just breathe, man! Just breathe!"

Until finally, one final hard slap to the face caused the dead bird to go flying out of the man's throat.

The businessman gasped and breath heavily, while Dipper gently replied, "See? That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Wendy scurried over to the dead bird on the floor, and picked it up. She felt the drool all over and it said, "Ew, yuck! It's covered in drool!" She turned to the businessman, who was still catching his breath, and said, "Thanks a lot, dude! I really needed your slobber all over it!"

Finally, the elevator began descending again, and the golden doors finally slid open, revealing the exit of the building at the end of the hall.

The three stood there, amazed that it was finally all over.

But, just before they left, the anime-eyed businessman turned to the two.

His head suddenly grew five-times it's size, and this strange brief transformation was followed by a trippy background animation. A large vain grew at the corner of his forehead, and his eyes lost their pupils for a second, and he suddenly seemed to grow sharp teeth. And lastly, a large sweat-drop was coming down from one side of his forehead.

"You punks will hear from my lawyer!" bellowed the businessman, and he walked out of the elevator.

Wendy and Dipper both turned to each other, and shook their heads.

"Geez," said Wendy to Dipper, "can you imagine him saying that after we saved his life? It's not like we did anything bad to him, anyway…"


	21. A Nightmare on Gopher Road - Prelude

_I LIIIIIIIIIVVVVVEEEEE!_

_Ok, so this was written about a year ago with the ever awesome EZB. And this actually was supposed to take place during his Gravity Falls story "_The Return to Gravity Falls_", hence all his characters I'm using and I honestly don't remember after what chapter this was written to take place after. Heh, lost track. But unfortunately, due to my lack of muse, and EZB's busyness of his epic life, this got put on hold. For quite a while actually. But I'm starting to get back into the swing go writing like I used to again, and this is, hopefully, one of many updates this anthology will be having. Again, I can't say for certain I'll be updating all the time, but it'll be as often as I can, and I'll also be taking requests as well if anyone give a shit enough to leave me ideas._

_Now for this particular piece, I had plans to work on it THIS Halloween, but I'd like to have "_30 Days of Night" _done before I start work on another GF horror movie adaptation. So, more then likely, it'll be next year. _

_Ok, enough of my blabbing. Enjoy!_

_I also own nothing. Jess, Jace, and Yuki belong to EZB, and _"A Nightmare on Elm St." _belongs to the late Wes Craven. _

_Rest In Peace, Wes. Thanks for making me afraid to go to sleep at night._

* * *

She had to run.

There was no one to run to.

He was all things and all places for her to run away.

She had to hide.

There was no place to hide.

He would await for her, find her, as he always did.

She had to scream.

She wouldn't dare make any more noise than she had to.

His ears were the realm of this nightmare and his power presided over her.

This nightmare was his playground.

"Come on back, plaything," the dark, guttural voice echoed from behind her.

Jessandra ran with her feet as hard as she could. It hadn't been long in the dream, like those that had come before: these nightmares of death and being hunted like prey. Only now, she was alone, and her wings were clipped here. She had lost her feathers. She had lost her flight.

Hope was coming up close on the lost category.

"JACE!" she dared to scream to the heavens above her.

Her bloodied and scratched feet raced painfully against the cold, wet pavement. She was looking behind her, checking the progress of the chaser. She could make out his form behind the billowing smoke that lingered behind her, fire tracing in his calming step that seemed to keep him at pace with her.

"Your dumbshit brother isn't here to hide behind, chicken girl," the man growled delightfully.

"H-HELP!" she screamed, aching her throat and lungs for whatever hopeful attention she could come across. The street ahead of her was just endless, and pitch black.

How long had she been running for? Hours? Days? Weeks? Had she just _started_ running? Jessandra had no idea. The Harpy could hardly keep track of footsteps, especially since she was used to measuring things in kilometers, usually in a safe distance in the clouds. No longer was she in that safe, distant, detached height.

"You're down here with me now, bitch," he told her, his growing voice scaring her horribly.

He was catching up with her.

Then a burst of hope caught her attention. Far ahead, far, far ahead, in the distant gloom of darkness, two figures emerged. They could have been miles away, but it was something to hold to. The outlines of her parents awaited her, waving her closer, their long, large feathers bending along their arms and backs.

"Mom! Dad!" Jess shouted, a smile growing on her face.

Maybe this dream could be different. She may not wake up in sweat, a horrible feeling along her skin as if she had been grasped or throttled, or like the last time, waking up with a single, long scratch along her back. Not this time. This time she would awake with a smile on her face, having seen her parents in her dreams. They could help her! They were so warming to her, the golden orange light behind them growing as she approached.

Hell would not let her go so easily it seemed.

The light from behind them let out a shrill shriek. A gust of wind knocked Jess onto her back. As she collected herself, looking back up, she screamed. Her father was burning, the fires of a dying Phoenix exploding light all around it, slowly spreading closer to her. Jess pushed herself further and further away, desperately climbing onto a lawn of a standard American home in the suburbs.

"Jess!" Her mother grabbed her hand from behind her, causing her to scream and whipped around, pulling her hand away.

"Mom!"

"We can't go that way! Thats-"

Her mouth gagged and her mouth was torn open. An entire gloved hand burst through the back of her mouth, cutting her spine out from the back of her head. Four small knives, like nails, were attached to the glove, and Jess felt all the air race from her lungs in the loudest, most horrible scream she had ever uttered.

It was not enough to wake her.

She saw him lurking up behind her now dead mother, and Jess spun for the door to the home. Wrenching it open, she spun and closed it before she dared check the interior. It was more important that she lock him out than know what the shade of the wallpaper was.

Turning around to see the world behind her, she realized what a mistake that was. She was back where it all began. Where all the dreams since the first had lead to. Every single one of them ended here, in a maze of pipes and industrial hell. Red mist and light scorched her skin and remaining feathers on her ears and arms. It was hot, humid, and smelt of acrid steel. This was his playground.

"No, no, no!" she desperately turned and pulled at the door handle. It fell away, causing her to stumble back. When she looked back up, the door was gone.

"Having some technical difficulty?"

The voice came from all around her, and she turned back, putting herself against the wall. Then the wall itself morphed in a horrible groan. Four hands all tried grabbing her limbs at once, and she shrieked and pulled away, barely having a moment to race away from the now growing figure of her nightmare hunter.

She couldn't scream any more. Her brain couldn't process the amount of terror that filled her as she saw him force his way out of the wall like an embryo out of a womb. He was coming, and all she could do was watch. Her body wouldn't listen to the demands of every single natural instinct roaring inside.

Run. Just run!

"Giving up, little missy?" he asked her, clicking the fingers together excitedly. She gulped and stared up to him. The face was obscured by a small fedora, casting a shadow over his entire head and shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, she wondered if she let this happen, the dreams would stop.

No sooner had the thought passed her mind, than he lashed out and sliced her arm with a quick swipe. She screamed and held her bleeding arm. A two inch incision by her wing-line.

"You leave when I say you leave, bitch!" he snarled, letting a few drops of her blood fall to the floor from his raised knives.

"W-w-w-wh-"

"Hmm? Speak up," he demanded, preparing to swipe at her again.

"What are you!?" she roared and closed her eyes as she saw the coming attack.

"JESS!"

She opened her eyes with a gasp and looked around. It was a cold, crummy motel room in Washington state. Her brother was on the side of her bed, clutching her shoulders tightly, worry shining from his eyes brighter than the sun itself. He sighed when she came to and let his grip loosen.

"Finally," he sighed and brushed some hair out from her feathers by her ears, untangling them slightly, "you were having another one of your nightmares."

"I... Jace!" she screeched at him. He held his hand to his mouth and 'shh'ed.

"Quiet!" he whispered to her. "You'll get us kicked out for waking the neighbors."

"I'm telling you," she grasped the brim of his shirt with one of her arms, keeping him close, "they're real!"

"How is that possible. Dreams are just... dreams," he told her while shrugging, "you have them and you make of them what you will."

"Jace, it's the same voice," she began explaining what would have been the fifth time, "in the same place, trying to kill me! I've never seen him before and I don't recognize the voice even!"

"Okay, okay, shhhh," he held his hands to her sides, trying to calm his younger sister. The fifteen year old male stroked his arm feathers and looked at her in puzzlement. There was a longing to understand and believe her inside his stare, but she knew he wouldn't. Logic was on his side, and sense aided him.

Only then did her arm ache, and she looked down.

"Oh my god," she said with a tremble.

The two of them stared to her, and her brother swore loudly. One of her large golden feathers was dangling off a line of sliced open skin. She had been cut long the side of her arm. Jace instantly went to his gathered supplies and retrieved a roll of gauze, and inspected her.

"Jess, what the hell- how did that happen!?" he demanded worriedly.

Jess couldn't answer. That was the exact spot. The exact same spot he had cut her. It was real. All of it was real. If he hurt her, she would be hurt. Which meant...

"It's were he cut me," she told him with a shaking lips. Jace stared at his younger sister, the only sister in his life. The pride of his family and himself, and one of only a few people on planet earth he would instantly take a bullet for. No longer could he afford to distrust the misconceptions of his dear twelve year old sister. He needed to solve this for her.

"They've been getting worse? These dreams?" he asked her as he began to apply the gauze and wrapping.

"Yes. All of them just get worse. He hunts me and chases me and... he's horrible," she told him. "I smell burnt... something... it's so bad and disgusting Jace!" she shouted and reached around his stomach for a hug. He gasped and held her close, looking to the windows carefully.

The night was still young, and he doubted either of them would get sleep.

"Okay... so you're dealing with a dream monster thing?" he gently pulled her away and looked to her tear-stained eyes.

"I don't know," she admitted, wiping a few away, "all I know is that he wants me dead. It's like that stupid hunter all over again, but he can get me when I can't run!"

"I know. Jess..." he thought about his answer for her for a moment, and decided it was right. "I think we need to call in some experts about weird stuff."

"Huh?" she asked, wiping away her eyes from their tears.

"You know who I mean. Who else can we trust that's dealt with crazy stuff like this?" Jace asked with a grin. Jess gasped, and her face grew red. "You got 'em."

She smiled and nodded. "Dipper and Mabel."

"Man, you want to talk about rocking the bow, that giant undead thing was freaky until you put out it's eyes! Like... shwoop! Shwoop!"

Mabel Pines mimed the action that Wendy Corduroy's character, only known as 'The Red Phantom' had performed to take down the monster the group had just encountered. The Redhead laughed as she, Mabel, Dipper, Soos, and their newest accomplice Uki-Dohth, known as Yuki, stepped out from the living room together, chatting animatedly together.

"It's pretty cool to know Dipper and Yuki can save their magical power for other stuff. Who knew that adventurers can set fires whenever the heck they want?" Wendy replied.

"Still, those were some sick shots you had," Dipper told her with a grin. Wendy grinned and nodded to him.

"Ranger with a good eye," she winked at him, and Dipper felt the pit of his stomach churn excitedly.

"Still though. That giant undead thing- like, what are going to do about it?" Soos asked them with a worried look to their dark skinned friend.

"I know not of such solutions," Yuki admitted, "should there be one within the immediate vicinity, I was unable to perceive it."

"Ugh," Grunkle Stan finally continued after them, carry a box with all the parts to their adventure game, Strongholds and Serpents, "I'm going to buy you 'Grappled on Grammar' or something so you know what it sounds like when you speak. If this is what the princes and royalty years ago had to endure, I'd understand why they were all stiff jerks."

Dipper and Mabel laughed as Yuki nervously chuckled along.

"Hey, Dipper, Mabel," Wendy called to them from the gift shop, "I totally forgot to hand this to you in the morning."

"Huh?" Dipper turned quickly, and stepped closer. Mabel, however, noticed the small envelope held in Wendy's grip, and charged forth, blazing a trail around her brother. "Hey!" Dipper shouted as she snatched what turned out to be a post card and began to read it.

"Ahem. Dear Mabel and Dipper- HA!" Mabel poked the card against Dipper's chest, "finally someone put me as the first twin!" she grinned at him excitedly, and he shrugged.

"Plenty of people do that," he assured her.

"Yeah? Like who?"

"Well, like... uhh..."

"Dear Mabel and Dipper," Mabel continued, scowling at her brother, who was still certain that someone out in the world used his suggested order, "we've just caught up the phoenix! Hey!" Mabel leapt up and giggled, "It's Jace and Jess!"

"Cool!" Dipper stepped closer, looking past her arm to read the card as she read aloud.

"We were staring to head back through northern California, and we thought it would be totally bananas cool if we could stop by for a moment and hang out like we did the first time. Oh, Jace is sooo the one who wrote this," Mabel rolled her eyes and snickered, "only he could be genius enough to use 'totally bananas cool'. Ahem. But something came up. Jess started getting these weird dreams. They're starting to effect her..." Mabel looked to Dipper, worry clear and evident throughout her eyes.

"Wait... you don't think that..." Dipper asked his twin, "Cipher?"

"Maybe he got all annoyed that we beat him at S and S, so now he's going after our friends," Mabel worriedly told him.

"But we banished him to the portal. He's not coming out unless someone lets him out!" Dipper exclaimed, and looked to Wendy, who was listening into this, and then to Soos and Yuki, who were equally confused. Mabel continued to read.

"We're not... exactly sure if you've ever had to deal with anything like this, but we need your help. We think Jess is in danger, and we know you're good with these mystery things. We'll be dropping by soon. Thanks, Jace and Jess," Mabel lowered the post card and worriedly looked around the room. Talk about a change in atmosphere- the once happy and excited vibes floating around the shack went to an almost abysmal and worried tone within a few sentences.

"Who are Jace and Jess?" Yuki asked.

"Friends," Dipper quickly told him.

"Hey! Yuki!" A voice called the alien to spin around, and Grunkle Stan entered the gift shop, a stack of coupon books in his arms, "I need you to go use all these this week."

"I- excuse me?" he demanded as Grunkle Stan walked past him, and then tossed a buss ticket at his face.

"Look, I need Wendy and Soos here, and until customers start marching through those doors," Grunkle Stan pointed a thumb over his shoulder, "I need you to be useful. That's a two-way bus ticket. Oh, and I suppose some hotel money," Grunkle Stan tossed him a wad of cash rolled up into a tight bun, "now go get the house food. You should be able to get practically everything for free if you do everything right."

"But.. but I draw attention to myself," Yuki wined as he protested this action.

"No butts! You want to live here until you get situated, don't you?" Stan warned him, and the alien nodded. "Now get going!" The alien reached for one of the racks, where cheap backpacks were for sale, filled it with the material, and slipped it around his shoulders.

"Don't worry Yuki! You'll be fine!" Mabel assured him.

"Farewell," the alien nervously told them as he walked out the door and began his hiking into town.

"Great. Let me know if he gets lost and comes back around. I guess I can waste some gas on him, you know," Grunkle Stan shrugged, "getting him to the bus station."

As Grunkle Stan walked past them, Dipper was ready to look to the post card. Something about the handwriting seemed... off. Certainly, Jace had great handwriting, but half way through the scribbles became less and less distinguishable. He hadn't been possessed, as Dipper doubted Cipher could even write proper English with a human-like body. Was Jace... just that scared?

"So, we're going to help your friends, right?" Soos asked, and the twins looked to him.

"We?" Dipper repeated.

"Well yeah. I remember those two," Soos acknowledged, "I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to them, you know."

"Same man," Wendy nodded, "this shouldn't be something that anyone deals with alone. You guys may want our help, you know?" she told them, leaning on the counter. "We're with this."

The twins looked to each other, beaming. If a dream demon thought that he could mess with their friends without consequence, he had another thing coming.

If only they knew.


	22. A Walk in the Woods

As the wolves remain silent and the moon rises high, a monster prowls the woods. A best of unimaginable ferocity and determination; one masked as a mere human. This creature is not one to be taken as anything other than what it is- death made flesh. To meet it in the night, unprepared, is to with certainty greet your end.

Or so it is rumored.

Gravity Falls had many strange rumors, many of which met the ears of Wendy Corduroy with scoffs and severe rolls of the eyes. Anyone could make these strange tales up, and all it took was a bit of overactive imagination.

Wendy made no qualms about moving through the town at night. She loved to get away from her family of zany, fitness and wilderness nuts. Even though her dad thought her more than capable on her own, he still wouldn't let her out of his home past nine. So, with growing habits, Wendy slowly took to the night, one slip-out at a time.

One night in particular, she decided to also snatch her dad's truck. Driving had been a skill she had been taught when she was twelve, a certainly illegal activity she cherished with her father. That night she barely got out without being caught, and roared down the street, to the opposite side of town.

The moonlit surface of Scuttlebutt lake twinkled invitingly at her. It was an early summer evening, and she contemplated her own swimming for a moment. Then again, there were some creepy kids in town who could sneak by if she did decide to get down the skivvies for a dip.

No, this night she'd resist the temptation for a midnight swim. Instead, she started down the path, deeper into the woods. The air about the woods was still, and the gentle sway of a breeze caressed her arms as she held them at her sides, letting the moonlight guide her steps.

Little that she knew that someone was watching her from afar.

_She reached into her pocket to and grabbed her cell phone. She tried to turn it in, but soon realized that her phone was dead._

It was getting late when Wendy was about halfway through the forest. She heard some shuffling in the bushes nearby- a hastened, rapid rustle. Then all of a sudden a twig fell of a tree. Wendy let out a sigh of relief as she shook any fear from her mind.

"Phew, I thought it was a wolf there for a sec." Her own words calmed her heart rate.

With a turn, Wendy was walking again. Then, she heard another sound. She turned around and could of sworn she saw a man duck behind a tree. _She walked slowly and out of the corner of her eye she spotted him, _a white man with a dark brown hair, dark brown beard, a bag on his back, and green eyes staring at her smiling devilishly. She turned around and the man hid behind a bush.

"I know your back there, dude!" Wendy shouted.

She was only greeted by silence. She thought that man looked familiar but she just kept walking. It was weird. Very weird. But... If the man wasn't bothering her, in the end she didn't care. She looked at him a little closer, trying to figure out who the mysterious man was. Suddenly, her eyes widened as she got a closer look at his face. Was that . . . No. It couldn't be. But her eyes didn't lie.

It was him. The monster from the stories.

_"Shia LaBeouf,"_ she whispered.

Shia heard that. With a large twisted smile, _h__e began following her, about thirty feet back. _Wendy didn't feel like sticking around to ask for an autograph from the superstar, so she turned ran as fast as she could. Shia was right on her tail and out of the corner of her eye, _she saw him get down on all fours and break into a sprint, and he was gaining on her. _He pulled a knife out from his bag and held it in his mouth, chasing after Wendy, who never once looked back and was gasping and panting and _running for her life from Shia LaBeouf_. _In her state of panic, she began looking for her car, but she was all turned around. Shia was almost upon her now and she could see there was blood on his face. My God there was blood everywhere!_ On the trees, the grass, and the bushes. She ran even faster and saw a dead man laying on the ground with his body slashed opened and his insides all over the ground with bite marks all over his body.

After ten minutes of running Wendy had stopped to catch her breath. _She noticed it was dark, and she seemed to have lost him, but she was hopelessly lost herself, and stranded with a murderer. She tried to stay as quite as she could as she crept silently through the underbrush._

_Suddenly, she noticed in the distance a small cottage with a light on. She smiled, seeing that all hope was not lost as she moved stealthy towards it_.

**Crunch.**

"AHHHHHHH!" Wendy let out a loud scream of pain as she felt metal teeth chomp on her leg. _She suddenly realized that her leg, no, it was caught in a bear trap! _She tried to free herself but to no avail. With the possibility of a monster prowling around for her, she had no other choice. Her father always told her that she'd need to do desperate thing to survive. _So, she did the unthinkable and began gnawing off her leg._ A salty, horrid flavor filled her mouth as she spat out chunks of flesh and bone, nearly vomiting in the process. But she couldn't cry. She had to be quiet. Very quiet. _Finally, she was free and began to limp to the cottage. Now she was on the doorstep, and gently opening the door she peered inside and stifled a gasp. As the door silently slid open, sitting inside and sharpening an axe, was Shia LaBeouf._

_But... he didn't seem to here her enter._

No... this was the moment. She could act! Wendy, hobbling on one foot, slowly approached. _She tried her best not to make a sound as she snuck up behind him and wrapped her hands around his throat, strangling superstar Shia LaBeouf._

They fought, Shia desperately trying to get Wendy's hands off from around his neck, but Wendy held on tight with a vice-like grip. Shia pulled her hair, and slowly pulled chunks out of her scalp, but still she held. Suddenly, Wendy noticed a knife in his pocket. _Making a grab for it, she pull out the knife and then stabbed it straight in his kidney._ Shia groaned in pain, spat out a glob of blood and fell to the ground. _Wendy threw Shia's arms off her and left to the cottage in the dark, blood oozing from her stump leg. She'd beaten Shia LaBeouf. _

Now it was just a matter of finding her half of the leg, and reporting the death of the menace Shia Labeouf.

She tried to find car so she could properly take care of her leg, but stopped when she heard a noise. She spun around but didn't see anything. Then she turned forward and saw Shia standing right in front! _'Wait, he isn't dead?' _

He grinned, and said with bloodied teeth,_ "Shia Surprise!"_

_Shia stared at her with a gun in his hand and death in his eyes. Out of desperation, she remembered her old Jiu Jitsu training and body slammed superstar Shia LaBeouf. She slapped the gun out of his hand and saw the axe laying on the ground. She lunged at it, but she moved slow due to the blood draining fast from her stump leg. She grabbed the axe, swung and missed him. He dodged every swipe and parried to the left with his knife. She countered to the right and caught him in the neck. She pulled out and swung again, chopping off his head and spraying blood everywhere. His head toppled to the floor, expressionless, as she fell to her knees and caught her breath. _

_She was finally safe from Shia LaBeouf._

* * *

"And so, that's how Wendy was hired with me in the Mystery Shack," Soos declared before Dipper and Mabel.

The twins, both sitting on the couch and staring with their mouths open at Soos as he casually leaned against the wall. The conversation had come up when Wendy had shown up late for work the third time in a row, and yet Stan never batted an eyebrow, merely teasing her for her laziness. "Why did he hire her?" Dipper finally asked Soos. "I mean, it's not like, uh, Stan's the kind of person who just lets anyone work..." to which he got _quite_ the answer.

"Lemme get this straight: Wendy ran into the woods, met a Hollywood actor who's actually a murderous cannibalistic monster," Dipper summarized, "got her leg chopped off-"

"Gnawed," Mabel corrected.

"Whatever," Dipper rolled his eyes, "and then killed him... twice?"

Soos stared at the twins, his eyes blank. Finally he grinned and nodded. "Yup."

"Seems legit," Mabel shrugged.

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that she clearly has her leg still on her?" Dipper pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah. Always wondered about that," Soos admitted. "Wendy!" he called to the hallway. Within a moment, the redhead appeared, her hands in her pockets as she eyed the twins and Soos. "You know how you got hired here?"

"Yuh-huh."

"How'd you get your leg back?" Soos asked.

Wendy scoffed and chuckled. "Dude. My story's a joke."

"Oh," Soos nodded.

"Yeah," Wendy winked at them, "don't worry about it. Okay? I mean, it's not like Shia LaBeouf would ever do anything like that."

"Yeah," Mabel nodded, "who would be desperate enough after creating something so powerful and clever to see it end that they would just go run off into the woods and start killing people?" Mabel laughed.

Dipper turned away and stared out the closest window. There, about thirty feet in, he saw him. Staring at him with a dangerous hunger.

Dipper whispered as he saw him.

"_Alex Hirsch."_


	23. The Cask of Amontillado

_Wow. 100 reviews. I never thought we'd get this far. I'm so freakin' happy. Seriously, a huge thanks to all my reviewers and reader for sticking with me this far, and to EZB for all the help, advice, and ideas we've shared along the way. Thanks man. _

_So, I figure I'd retell a classic with a little GF twist. If you know your Poe, then you'll know where this comes from. If not, enjoy!_

* * *

_The thousand injuries of Pacifica I had borne as best I could; but when she ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge..._

"I can't tell you how grateful I am that you called me, Mabel . I don't even think my father has ever tasted real Amontillado ."

"Yeah, well... I knew that only someone with your refined tastes would appreciate it, Pacifica."

The two girls headed down another flight of stairs and deeper into the The Mystery Manors vaults. Torches, lit earlier, shined brightly in the darkness to illuminate their path. Grunkle Stan said that the torches "added atmosphere". The heat masked the cold from the snow just above.

Pacifica cast her eyes up sadly. The damp was already getting to her hair, causing it to droop slightly. Oh well, a small sacrifice for as fine a drink as real Amontillado! When Mabel had told her, she'd rushed over as quickly as she could. For heaven's sake, she hadn't even brought a hat, a decision that was haunting her now. "Hey Mabel, would you mind if I ran back to my house real quick to grab a hat or something? My hair..."

"Aw butternubs, Pacifica! I forgot about that. Sure, go ahead and run off. Besides, I should really have someone else taste it, just to make sure. I wouldn't want to get you all excited unless it was real Amontillado. Maybe Wendy. She knows her drinks pretty well."

Pacifica raised her nose. "Hmph! Please! I doubt she could tell a Merlot from a bottle of Hair Straightener. Let's keep going."

"Whatever you say."

They continued on a while, their only company the sound of their shoes echoing on the walls. They passed a relatively new section of wall, but Pacifica paid it no mind. Mason work had never impressed her. Pacifica again broke the silence. "Hey Mabel, I don't mean to pry..."

"By all means, pry away." The girl replied, not bothering to stop or turn her head.

"Well, how do you know it's an Amontillado? It extremely rare, you know."

"You've mentioned. From what I understand, Grunkle Stan acquired it years ago and just forgot about it."

"Ah, Stanley. I'm sorry that I missed the funeral..."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I know how busy you can be, being one of Gravity Falls's counsel members and all."

"Be that as it may, I should've at least..."

"Anyway, I read about the cask in his will. I figured you and I could share a glass and decide what to do with the rest."

"Oh." Pacifica's mind spun at the possibilities. With a cask of real Amontillado, she could really secure a spot with anyone's upper crust. She'd be the literal toast of the town. Immediately, she began formulating exactly how drunk she would have to get the young freelance artist to purchase the entire cask. Hopefully not too drunk. Amontillado was dreadfully scarce.

She hadn't been thinking long when Mabel stopped suddenly. Pacifica looked past her and saw an alcove built into the wall. It went too deep into the darkness to see very far inside. If there was a barrel of anything in there, she would have to be closer to inspect it.

"Just in there." Mabel motioned with her head into the alcove.

"Well... alright then. Let's have a look." Shaking off the uneasiness, Pacifica walked past Mabel and into the alcove, pointing a flashlight to light the way. Once in the alcove, she narrowed her eyes in confusion. The alcove was just deep enough for her to get all the way in. The ceiling was just high enough that it didn't touch her hair. There was no cask of anything here; just a bare wall. The light from her torch glinted off of something.

"Are those... chains?"

"Yes. Yes they are."

Mabel's voice was right behind her. The blonde spun just in time to see the right hand of Mabel Pines heading straight into her forehead.

/

The low scraping sound slowly seeped its way into her mind. The darkness gave way to colors, first blurred then crystal clear. A dull pain thudded in her forehead, and she reached up... feeling a large cut, gushing blood. "My... my head..." She muttered groggily.

"Yeah, sorry about that. But I couldn't have you fighting your way out then, could I?"

As her vision cleared, Pacifica focused on Mabel. The scraping sound she'd heard had been the scrape of the trowel Mabel was using to lay mortar and bricks along the alcove entrance. The young girl was working hard, her body already slick with sweat. The new wall was four stacks high, and soon the fifth would be done. "Mabel... what are you doing?"

"You had a bit too much to drink. It had a little more kick than you were expecting I'd imagine. I've been trying to talk you into leaving, but you'll have none of it. So, I'll just have to leave you."

"But I don't want to stay here." Pacifica was still quite groggy and not sure what was going on. "Here, I'll leave..." The girl stood on wobbly legs and tried to move past the wall, but found herself unable to continue. Something was holding her back. She turned her head slowly... and found chains tied around her midsection.

The chains were attached to the wall.

The wheels began to turn more quickly in Pacifica's head, and she began to hyperventilate. Everything suddenly became shockingly clear, as did the sharp pain in her head.

"There you go. I was wondering how long it would take you to catch on."

"But... but Mabel, why?"

"Why?" For just a moment, she turned from her work and gazed coldly into Pacifica 's eyes. The trowel moved to her left hand. "I've had to put up with your little jabs and insults for years, Pacifica. Insults about my upbringing, my lifestyle, even about my family."

"Playful jokes and nothing more! Hardly a reason to wall me up in a cider cellar! For God's sake, Mabel let me loose..."

"Maybe they were just 'playful jokes' to you, but what you did to Dipper was anything but _playful_."

Pacifica 's mouth dropped. "He... he told you?"

"Not directly, no." Mabel returned to her work, now laying the sixth layer. "But he left it all in the note."

"Note?"

"His suicide note."

The stunned silence that followed lasted until Mabel began work on the seventh layer. She made sure to leave a single brick out of place.

"When did it happen?" Pacifica's voice was a whisper.

"Three days ago. It's a miracle that the rafters in his room didn't break from his body hanging from them."

"Mabel, why didn't you tell anyone?"

The girl snorted. "Please. Air our dirty laundry to the masses? No thank you. This is a family matter."

"What... what did he say happened?"

"He pretty much laid everything out. Didn't leave much room for doubt. After I read it, I knew what had to be done." For a second time, Mabel paused. Her eyebrows raised in genuine interest. "Why, Pacifica? Why'd you do it?"

"It wasn't anything." Pacifica cast her eyes down. "He was drunk. I was drunk..."

"Is that what you told him? That you would have to be drunk to be with someone like him?"

"No! Well, not in those exact words..."

Mabel shook her head and resumed her work. The seventh layer was soon complete.

"_HEEEEEEEEEEELP_!" Pacifica screamed at the top of her lungs. "_SOMEBODY PLEASE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP_!"

"Nobody can hear you, so save your breath. Snow's too deep. By the time spring rolls around, you probably won't have strength enough to even scream."

"This isn't fair, Mabel! How was I supposed to know he'd take it so badly?"

"We'd just lost Grunkle Stan! We don't have a lot of family to begin with, and you took advantage of him at his lowest!"

"I know you're upset, but Dipper is hardly blameless in all this..."

"He fell for you, you...you... _hussy_!" Mabel paused halfway through the eighth layer. She snorted in anger. "He thought he'd finally found someone who cared, someone who could take care of him in times of need with Wendy being out of the country. And you just shut him down completely. Didn't even let him down softly. Hmph, some friend you are."

"We all have moments of weakness. It was Dipper's own fault that he fell for me..."

"Vain 'til the end. Figures." Shaking her head sadly, Mabel resumed working.

"How do you plan on explaining this to the others? To my parents?" Pacifica did her best to keep the panic out of her voice.

She was failing. Miserably.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that. Wrote a nice long letter explaining how you and some fancy pants rich kid eloped and set out to find your new home. After that, everyone'll just assume that you both are too happy to even bother with your friends back home."

Pacifica sniffed indignantly, noting that only two layers of bricks remained. Her time was running out. "Alright, Mabel. This has gone far enough. Your attempts at humor are quite morbid, I have to admit. Come, let's go back to your place and get this whole business settled like civilized people."

"Oh, I dunno." Mabel replied, starting work on the final layer. "I think we're settling just fine right here."

The coolness and certainty in Mabel's voice finally caused Pacifica's mind to snap completely. She lunged at the wall and scraped at it as a rat would scratch at a trap. "_FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MABEL_!"

"Yes, for the love of God." Mabel returned, placing the last brick in the top row. "And for the love of family."

The wall was completed. All that remained was the final brick, and the alcove would be sealed for all time.

Mabel peered into the hole, into the darkness. "Pacifica?"

The only response was the clapping of palms striking brick, as though they were dancing.

Shaking her head, the girl laid the mortar and placed the final stone in its place.

Silence.

Mabel breathed deep and reached a hand up. Using her shirt, she wiped her brow free from sweat and re-hid the remaining mortar and bricks.

Her need for vengeance sated, Mabel headed back upstairs, dousing the torches as she went. No one ever came down this deep. No one would ever know. She glanced sideways at the other newly constructed wall, the one that Pacifica had passed without a second thought. Hanging from it was a hat she knew well.

"Rest easy, brother." She whispered. Without another word, she resumed the trek back up into the unforgiving cold of winter.

_For the half of a century, nobody has disturbed her. _

_In pace requiescat!_


	24. The Host with the Most

It is said by many that God moves in mysterious ways.

It was also said by Voltaire that God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.

Both explanations, and many more besides, could explain just why, with all the churches in Gravity Falls, both Gideon Gleeful and Dipper Pines wound up at the same one at exactly the same time: just as the sun was beginning to creep up over the horizon. The sky, however, was thick with clouds and rain was coming down, so the sun wasn't having much success in making its presence known.

At that moment, however, they were unaware of each other's presence, for Dipper was in the upper bell tower while Gideon was just coming in out of the downpour and walking slowly down the aisle of the empty church.

Having put the pieces of the game into their proper places, God made His moves. The audience remained afraid to laugh.

Still wearing the black costume, Dipper sat in the bell tower, looking off toward the horizon. His fancy Italian suit was piled in a heap on the side.

He had no idea what to do. The words of Stwnford were haunting him. When he'd first heard them, he'd laughed them off. But he kept replaying the image of him swatting aside Wendy, and it was like having ice-cold water repeatedly dousing him in the face.

A huge church bell hung above him. It was three times his size, but he wasn't really paying attention to it. He was caught up in his inner torment, oblivious not only to its presence, but to the timing mechanism nearby that was ticking down toward the moment when it would set the gears into motion and send the bell ringing.

A part of him was urging him to forget everything that had happened. Find a way to make it up to Wendy if he had to, but not to dwell on it.

Even as he thought that, though, he knew it would be impossible. Not only had too much happened, too much more could still happen. Just in wearing the costume for a couple of days, he felt as if he was losing touch with his soul. What in God's name would happen a couple of weeks or months from now? Would he even be recognizable as himself? What would he become?

He couldn't chance finding out.

Dipper stood and started pulling on the suit, figuring that he would be able to peel it off as easily as he had the last time.

Wrong.

Perhaps sensing that matters had reached a crisis point, the suit refused to yield. Dipper pulled at it harder, using the full power of the amazing adhesive abilities that lay in his fingertips. Nothing. The suit stretched like rubber, then snapped right back.

He started digging into it with his nails, pulling as hard as he could.

'_Oh my God… get off me get off me get off me** GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFFGETOFFGETOFFGETOFFFFFFFFFF !'**_

The alien symbiote didn't speak back to him, not possessing that power of communication. He sensed a deep-seated feeling permeating him, a feeling originating not from him but from the suit. If he'd had to find words to express the emotions that the costume was projecting, it would have been…

**_Make me._**

Sonorous organ music crept through the church as Gideon walked slowly down the aisle. He glanced in the direction of the actual organ, and it sat there, silent. But the music was coming from somewhere. Probably a sexton or someone like that playing recorded music. It was unbearably creepy and added a foreboding Gothic flavor to the chapel.

Feeling sad, lonely, and pathetic, he took a seat and stared at the image of Christ on the cross. A man with good intentions who'd been crucified for her troubles. Gideon could relate.

"Its me, sir. Gideon Charles Gleeful," he introduced himself. "I've been wronged, and the woman I worship will have none of me. I don't qualify as the perfect boyfriend, but… who does?"

Jesus didn't answer. That was okay. What could he really have said? Gideon didn't mind its being a one-way conversation. "I ask you, why do I have to suffer for everyone else's imperfections? Why can't I ever have what I want? What about me?" He thumped his chest. "What about lil' ole me!? I try to do what's right! I follow your rules! I obey the 'thou shalt nots.' I'm a decent person." He raised his voice to get it above the organ music, which seemed to be getting louder. "I'm a decent person!"

Gideon frightened himself with his vehemence and the intensity of his emotions. He didn't understand why it had come to this. Why no one else in the world was able to see him the way that he saw himself.

Never for a moment did he consider that he had brought his problems upon himself. Instead they had been forced upon him by a world that judged him and found him wanting without ever truly comprehending him.

"So I come to you today, humbled . . . . . . and humiliated . . . . to ask of you but one thing." He clasped his hands together so hard that he felt them going numb, but he didn't care. Tears were starting to stream down his face, but he didn't care about that either. Nor did he care about the voices of a choir—also recorded—that joined the organ music and got louder and louder, like a chorus of demented angels urging him onward, ever onward. His body trembling, praying harder than he ever had before, he begged for the only thing that would give her life any meaning…

"I want you to kill Mason Pines."

The bell thundered to life overhead.

Dipper staggered as the bell started to swing. It distracted him for only a moment, as he continued to pull at the costume. It fought back with a life of its own.

_Parasite… dangerous… very dangerous . . . you didn't keep any, did you, Dipper?_

All the words of Stanford flew back at him, and Dipper cursed himself for his stupidity, even as he continued to battle against the costume.

**_I want my life back! GIVE ME MY LIFE BACK!_** Dipper furiously thought, and the suit redoubled its efforts, seemingly fighting for its own life as well.

The bell clanged above them, deafening, and apparently it seemed to jolt the suit's concentration. He felt it loosening slightly, felt its influence upon him starting to diminish. He was winning the contest of wills. _I've got you now, you slimy, black bastard,_ he thought grimly, not noticing that the black goo was starting to slip through a crack in the flooring.

Gideon, heading out of the church, passed under the bell tower, which was situated above the front doors. The bell was clattering away high above him, and suddenly something fell on his shoulder with a thick splat.

_Great. Pigeons are crapping on me. Thanks for answering the prayer, God._

He reached up to brush it off and saw that it wasn't like anything he'd ever seen. At first glance it was akin to tar, but when he reached for it, it seeped into his shirt without a trace. She twisted around, thinking that maybe it had fallen to the floor, but no. Nothing there. Then another drop landed on his other sleeve. This time he never took his eyes off it as, once again, it soaked into his shirt and vanished.

_What the hell?_

He glanced upward, and there, high above, was the unmistakable form of Spider-Man. He was trying to peel his black costume off, and the damned thing was… leaking? No, it was oozing off him as if it was… alive… "Well, sonuvabitch," muttered Gideon.

It was as if Dipper were peeling his own skin from his bones. This was worse, far worse than that previous time. Both he and the symbiote were struggling for their lives, and no prisoners were being taken.

Between the clanging of the bell and the agony that was ripping through Dipper's head, it was all he could do not to pass out. But that wasn't an option; if he did, she knew the symbiote would reassert itself, and next time he might never get it off him. He continued to peel it away, bit by bit, feeling as if he was starting to get some momentum, and so kept at it with growing determination. At one point, when his will started to flag, he mentally pictured Wendy being sent tumbling over a table by his hand—by its hand—and he increased her efforts.

Gideon watched in fascination as a drop landed on his hand and then seeped into his skin. He staggered, his mind whirling with thoughts that were simultaneously his own, yet seemed to be coming from somewhere else, as if his own thoughts were magnified and heightened. It was like mainlining a particularly potent narcotic.

And he wanted more.

So much more.

A drop descended from on high, straight toward his face. He opened his mouth and caught it on his tongue, like a snowflake, and swallowed it. It burned pleasantly, like a fine wine.

The shadows around his seemed larger, darker. He kind of liked it.

Spider-Man was screaming overhead. What a bitch. What a little pussy. He clearly wasn't man enough to take what this… this whatever it was… had to give.

Gideon raised his arms over his head and started screaming sync with Spider-Man, making fun of him. But where Spider-Man's stemmed from fear and pain, Gideon's was a primal scream of fury against all the raw deals that the world had heaped upon his shoulders. He owed the world for all of that, and this was where he started dealing out the payback.

And Gideon's scream was changing as it continued. It was getting deeper with every passing moment, as more of the black goo poured down upon him, until his voice no longer sounded human. Instead it could have been a beast growling: a lion bellowing a challenge, or even a dinosaur from a primeval era unleashing a deafening roar designed to freeze its prey in its tracks.

Dipper collapsed, sagging to the floor, his head whirling, the world spinning. It was gone. The creature was gone. He didn't know where it had vanished to and, right now, couldn't bring himself to care. He was more exhausted than he could ever remember, and he knew that if he allowed herself to rest for even a few moments, he would pass out. He didn't dare take the chance, fearing that when he came to, he'd be right back where he started.

He pulled the Italian suit on, every move an exercise in agony. He didn't bother to button the shirt, and he held the shoes rather than wear them. The bell had mercifully stopped ringing, but he could still hear it clanging away between his ears, and he hoped that he hadn't done permanent damage to his hearing.

Climbing to the top of the bell tower, he paused there a moment, waiting for the dizziness to subside, then he fired a webline and swung away from the church. His spider-sense told him that no one was watching him, but he wouldn't have cared if the Mormon Tabernacle Choir was looking on. He had to put as much distance between himself and the church as possible.

He would have to go back. He couldn't leave that… that thing just slithering around. But he was going to be prepared. He would return with some sort containment equipment and be wearing armor if he had to—anything to make sure the creature didn't take him over again.

Through the pelting rain, Dipper made his way to his apartment and staggered in through the front door. With bleak amusement, he noted that the hinge had been repaired. He wondered if the shower had also been fixed. No better time to find out. His clothes were soaked from the inclement weather. He pulled them off, dumped them on the floor, and headed for the bathroom. Once there, he turned on the shower and discovered that, yes, the showerhead was now functioning properly.

_At least the symbiote did me some good._ Then he pictured Wendy's stricken face once more and decided that no amount of household repairs was worth the grief that he had brought on.

He allowed the water to wash away his sins. Thank God it was over.

Gideon headed toward Dipper's apartment and spotted his name on the mailbox. Apartment 501.

It was only a confirmation of what he already knew.

The black costume had been a part of Dipper. Now it was part of Gideon. What the suit knew, Gideon knew, and the suit knew quite a lot about its previous host.

Gideon had initially been stunned to discover that Dipper Pines was Spider-Man. The sheer audacity of that BASTARD! Here Gideon had to bust his ass to take pictures, and obviously all Pines had been doing was setting up a camera, taking pictures of himself in action, and laughing to himself as he collected paycheck after paycheck for self-portraits. To Gideon, it was the final confirmation of the fundamental unfairness of the universe.

But after the shock had worn off, Gideon was pleased about this development. He had begged God to make sure that Mason Pines died, and God had answered his prayer in as efficient and direct a manner as Gideon could possibly have hoped.

He'd granted Gideon power, so much so that killing Dipper wouldn't have been any fun if Pines had been a normal human. But because Gideon was what Dipper was, Gideon could take genuine pleasure in smashing both Pines and Spider-Man in one shot.

If nothing else, it was a monumental time-saver.

Pines had left the front door of his apartment ajar. Gideon pushed it open gently and entered. He heard the shower running and ignored it. Instead he started going through the drawers. He found assorted clothes in most and a grand total of seven dollars in one. He went to the closet and found a couple of different Spider-Man costumes hanging in it. They looked so sad, so useless, that pathetic red and blue.

A picture of a good-looking red-headed girl was on the wall. Gideon leaned forward and studied it with curiosity. Quite the looker, she was. He searched the pieces of Dipper's thoughts that the symbiote had peeled away when it had departed its previous host and locked into the girl's identity. Gwendolyn Corduroy. He immediately knew all that Dipper knew about her.

He thought about when Spider-Man had been kissing Pacifica Northwest. Knowing now that it had been Dipper Pines, he wondered just how many women Pines felt the need to collect.

Gideon could start collections as well.

He heard the shower go off and silently eased his way out of the apartment. Even if Dipper hadn't finished his shower, Gideon would have been ready to leave. He had seen enough.

He wasn't quite ready to attack Pines. Not yet. The symbiote wasn't ready. He could sense it within his, still bonding with Gideon on a molecular level. It would take a little while longer, and when it was done… when Gideon was ready…

All debts would be paid in full.

With interest.


	25. Corduroy

A dirty Los Angeles sunset. Sun blazing all sickly as it sank into a band of smog. As the taxi pulled up in front of the apartment building, A woman gazed at the sullen colors of the sunset between the silhouettes of palm trees on the western horizon.

_All that color in the smog, _she thought._ Funny how poison can be so pretty._

Wendy Corduroy - a lean woman in a long, shabby black coat, stub of a cigarette between her fingers - got out and signaled Pacifica to wait. She was getting out, too: A young woman in casual a bad girl look, with a very non-bad girl artifact in her hands: a book about Martinist symbology, written in French. Getting the signal to wait from Wendy, Pacifica sighed, and nodded, leaning against the car.

_One of these days_, Wendy thought, going into the building,_ I'm going to take her in with me. What's the use of an apprentice if she doesn't back you up? But I'll probably regret it._

She tried to draw on the cigarette, saw it had gone out, dropped it into the gutter, ground it out with her boot. She went into the apartment building, patting her coat pocket for another cigarette.

She lit a Lucky Strike with her ornate lighter figured with spiritual symbology.

Father Gregory was waiting in the foyer. A stocky, sweating, heavy-breathing, balding middle-aged man with broken veins on his red face, a priest's collar. "I think… I think I found you one," Gregory said.

Gregory still had his collar, Wendy observed. So the Church hadn't given him his walking papers quite yet.

"I… I'm going to rehab, Wendy. In a month or two. They're giving me another chance. Listen, I found you one - here."

Wendy just stared at him. Poor Greg. Damaged goods.

"Look, I called you, right?" Gregory said, hands shaking as he wiped sweat from the tip of his nose. "Soon as I couldn't pull it out myself I called you, Wendy."

Wendy just shook her head and went through the door to the staircase. At the next landing she came to a small crowd of gossiping neighbors - Mexican, some Asians, a few Caucasians, all standing around and two people seated on the stairs: a white-haired black lady with her arm around a plump, tanned, shoeless bottle-blond in a suit dress, shivering on the stairway and hugging her knees, shoulders twitching at every sound from that apartment upstairs.

The distant shouts from up there, the agonized squealing sound, the sudden bangs. Wendy knew this was the kid's mother. Nothing she could do for her here.

"It's okay," one of the women said to the mom. "You had to tie her down. It's okay… "

She walked past her with barely a glance, continuing up toward those sounds. The exercise sharpening the burning pain in her lungs - pain that never completely went away. Knowing that the craving for cigarettes and the pain went together: one more in an endless parade of ironies in her life.

Hell. Was there any point anymore in following the doctor's directions?

Even as she thought this, she had begun to do what she'd come here for. It was second nature to her by this time, almost instinctive: reaching out with the part of her that couldn't be touched by sickness, extending supremely fine feelers from the field that surrounded her - like the unseen field that was around everyone, except that hers could be controlled. Extending feelers from her lifeforce - field upward, right through floors and walls, toward that room. And drawing back a bit at the furious response. That thing up there felt her psychic groping - and resented it. But then, it resented everything: all living existence.

She suspected it hadn't identified her yet. It didn't know who it was dealing with. She followed the feelers up to the apartment. The door stood ajar. She'd have known it anyway - she could feel fury as pure energy coming from it in waves, like heat from a house fire.

Wendy put her hand on the apartment doorknob-and the thing inside sensed her…

The building was quiet for a pregnant moment and then THUMP CLANG. ROAR! And the sound of shattering glass.

She entered the apartment. Stepping into the waves of demonic energy was like stepping into a sauna. Par for the course. But there was something unusual about this emanation. It was more intense, clearer, the wavelengths crystalline-sharp. Powerful.

She stepped over a broken chair, a shattered television set, and went down the narrow apartment hallway. She felt like she was moving upstream against an unseeable current. Her gut wrenched as the diabolic stench hit her like burning shit and sulfur and rotting blood, only it wasn't really a smell in the air but in the mind.

The girl's bedroom was beyond wrecked - everything was rubbled, smashed into small pieces.

The bedposts were snapped off; a toy box was kindling, dolls ripped to pieces; the dresser was splintered, its clothes shredded. There were several small puddles of blood. Some was the girl's, judging by the state of her fingers, the red hand-marks smeared on the wall.

The girl was tied to the remnants of the bed. She made a repugnant rattling noise, like a hateful comedian imitating the last sound of a dying mutt, over and over…

She glared at Wendy. Her face seemed to shift within itself-

She had to look away. She'd glimpsed something she didn't usually see in a possession, and she had a gut feeling it wasn't smart to look at it directly, not for long. Wendy understood exactly what gut feelings were, and why you never, ever ignored them.

The creature in the little girl's bruised, rag-fluttery body seemed to tense, as if about to tear itself free and leap at her - and then hesitated, sensing…

Recognizing Wendy, knowing how many of its kind had been repatriated to Hell, the dark spirit quivered in fear and fury both… and a wind exploded toward Wendy generated by demonic energy, making her sway, nearly fall. She held her ground, and pulled back the sleeves of her coat and jacket to show the tattoos, the sigils on her forearms that seemed to writhe in anticipation of her retaliation.

The demon looked away at the sight of the tattoos, gathering its strength for a killing assault.

Wendy checked her watch. Then she strode across the room to the window - deliberately showing no fear, not watching her back. It was as much about the psychological as the psychic, and even demons had a psychology. She had to be in charge here. The demon would resist it, but Wendy already had the psychological leverage she needed.

Disliking daylight, the demon had left the curtains intact, and closed. Wendy drew them open with a sweep of her hand, and the room flooded with the amber light of sunset.

The light struck the girl - the demon - and she made that sickly rattling, that polyglot muttering, deep within her. Then, head shaking in a blur, she went to moaning, and the moan sounded like a little girl's voice for a moment, before the seething voices, the roaring rattle returned.

Wendy kept her hands extended, letting the psychic energy flow through her - a particularly fine grade of energy called astral light by the hermeticists. She drew it from above her, into the back of her head down through her spine, out through her arms, so that the "feelers" with which she normally tested the psychic air became channels for divine power - which closed around the demon, contracting to hold it pinned… she didn't trust those improvised straps. There.

That would hold the girl… it… just long enough.

Wendy lowered her arms, squinted against the smoke rising from the cigarette in her lips as she removed her coat and laid it aside. She coughed, took the cigarette out long enough to spit a little blood, and then took another drag. She laid the butt on the remains of a table, then took a key chain from her pants pocket. On it were house keys, keys to a car she couldn't legally drive anymore, a Ralph's Supermarket swipe card, and a set of small, very old silver medallions, each with an image of a saint. When Wendy got to Saint Anthony of the Desert, standing with one foot on the head of a gorgon, the demon reacted with a wet chattering glossolalia.

_Ah--that's the one, is it? _Wendy thought, stepping onto the bed, squatting to straddle the girl.

Sending her field energy out along her arms, into her fingers, Wendy raised her hands, making the passes, the runic shapes, that directed the energy.

Then she snarled at the demon, so that its master - who heard whatever the demon heard - would know:

"This is Corduroy! Wendy Corduroy, asshole!"

She pressed the medallion against the girl's bruised forehead. The metal began to glow red-hot, and smoke rose from burnt skin. The child - and the demon - screamed and convulsed.

All the time, Wendy was careful not to look directly into the child's face as it flickered in and out of shadow - but seeing out of the corner of her eyes, she had an impression of the girl's face alternating with another. One that should not be visible at all in the world of men.

The girl jolted on the bed, the bonds cut into her wrists and ankles, and then her eyes snapped open and Wendy found herself looking into them as the demon in her snarled, _"Vamos juntos a matarla.'"_

_The pot calling the kettle black_, Wendy thought, holding the girl down with one hand while she pressed the medallion with the other as the girl's body shimmied on the bed…

And then suddenly she went limp. Lay still, as if dead.

"What the hell?" It shouldn't have killed her. The thing should be fighting for a while yet.

She leaned forward to look at the girl's face - and something jumped beneath the skin of her neck, up into her face, distending abruptly malleable jaws so that they jutted forward, as if trying to gnaw its way free from within…

Wendy recoiled - and the demon kept coming at her, lifting the bed frame off the floor telekinetically, arms outspread in the now-upright frame like a mock of the crucifixion; like a wolf dragging its cage, it came snapping at Wendy's face with its unnaturally outstretched jaws.

The demon roared and foamed at the mouth and contorted, beginning to shake the bed frame apart…

And Wendy, swearing-old-fashioned obscenities and not incantations - stepped in and punched the girl hard in the side of the head with her right fist.

She gasped, her eyes rolled back - and the girl, bed frame and all, fell backward, out cold.

Heart thumping, dizzy, Wendy became aware of voices behind her. She turned to see a small crowd at the half-open door. Several men and a woman, mouths and eyes wide open, staring.

Wendy hoped they'd seen more than her punching out a little girl. But if they had, there was no condemnation. Just horror as they stared at the unconscious child.

Wendy knew how to take control of dazed people when she had to. "I need a mirror. Now!" She turned to look at the girl. "At least three feet high! Move!"

The three men looked at one another, murmured, then ran down the hall. They ran to the nearest apartment, didn't find a suitable mirror, hammered on another door, and thundered inside, making an old woman shriek as they tore a big floor mirror from its stand and raced puffing back up to Wendy with it.

Distantly aware of all this, Wendy went to the window and shouted down to her apprentice, still leaning against the cab.

"Yo, Paz!"

"What?" she shouted back.

"Move the car! Your cab, move it!"

"What? Why?"

**_"JUST MOVE THE GOD DAMN CAR, PACIFICA!!"_**

"We got your mirror!" shouted the burliest of the onlookers as they wrestled it through the door. Wendy turned and took the big oval wall mirror.

Down on the street, Pacifica glared up at the window and then snorted, shaking her head. "Park the car, move the car."

She got into the car, shifted into reverse, moved it a few feet backward, and parked it again.

"There, fuck it, I moved the damn thing."

She turned the engine off, and went back to her book.

Wendy had the heavy, wood-framed mirror tied with drapery ropes to an inert ceiling fan so that the mirror dangled above both her and the twitching, semiconscious girl. She was lying there with her eyes shut, the demon dormant within her but coming to life again. The mirror hung glass-downward, parallel with the bed. The other men stood nervously to either side, steadying it.

"Close your eyes," Wendy told them. "And whatever happens, do not look at her…."

Wendy put her hands over the girl's eyes just as they began to flutter open. She intoned in a rapid whisper, _"In nominee Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti extinguatur in te ominis virtus diaholi per…" _She could feel a change under her hands. The girl was coming to.

_"Impositionem manum nostrarum et per invoctionem gloriosae et sanctae dei genetricis virginis Mariae…"_

Someone whimpered close by - not the girl. She turned to see one of the tenants, a middleaged man staring straight at the girl's face.

"NO!" Wendy barked.

It was too late, the man backed away, wide eyes filling with tears, sobbing. "Oh no… "

Without him holding it, the mirror tilted. The men moved to reposition the mirror, but the damage was done. The girl began to wrench about under Wendy, her face writhing under her fingers. She broke free of the straps, snapping them like strips of cardboard. She began to levitate and she just managed to keep her hand covering her eyes. The demon grabbed Wendy around the throat, squeezing, fingers becoming talons. But Wendy was thinking about those miraculously distended jaws and what they'd do to her hand. She felt its jaws swelling… then her breath shut off.

_Okay, it has to be now,_ Wendy thought, _or you're going to be choked to death by a little girl._

"Smile pretty, you vain prick," she said to the demon, and slid to one side so she didn't block the mirror, whipping her hand away from the girl's eyes. Mentally, she commanded the demon, Look!

The girl's eyes fixed on the reflection in the mirror… and Wendy looked too.

What was reflected in the mirror had nothing to do with a little girl. It showed a head whose most prominent feature was what it was missing: The top of its skull was sliced away at the eyes.

Demons had no need of brains; they took orders, and they were pure instinct, pure appetite, driven by the lower-body impulses; it had distended jaws bristling with needle teeth. Gaunt, scaly limbs…

And the little girl suddenly sagged back, panting with relief: The demon was now trapped in the mirror glass. Trapped but not surrendering yet - it thrashed and clawed to escape the reflection, heaving its force against the mirror from the looking-glass world, the frame and glass beginning to crack…

The demon was starting to come through, fighting to get its body into the material world. _And that, _Wendy thought,_ was against the rules._

"Pull that rope, now!" Wendy shouted.

One of the men jerked the dangling rope end so that the mirror swung toward the window - and instantly got stuck in the jamb.

"No you don't," Wendy snapped.

She jumped up and pushed the mirror free, shoved it out the broken window so that it fell free of the rope, plummeted toward the street, turning end over end.

She had a glimpse of the demon staring out of the cracked glass at him as it fell away, and Wendy flipped it the finger. "For your boss!"

And then the mirror fell directly onto the hood of Pacifica's cab, denting it deeply, the mirror glass shattering on impact, showering into countless glittering pieces. A repellent rattling sound reverberated away from the fragments… carrying with it a reptilian stench… away, away, the demon's astral form flitting invisibly into the city's gathering night.

In the cab, Pacifica stared at the broken glass, the smashed wood - and her dented hood.

In the girl's bedroom, Wendy was untying the bloody remnants of the straps when her mother came in.

"Mama!" Her mother gathered the child up in her arms, rocking her.

Wendy checked on the man who'd looked into the demon's face: he was lying on .his back, staring, twitching, muttering. Something broken in his mind.

Gregory had crowded in, too, and was clearing his throat. "Ma'am - about the money…"

Wendy picked up the stub of her cigarette, no longer burning. Feeling like she might fall over if she didn't keep moving, she put on her coat and went into the hallway, to the kitchenette.

Her stomach was churning, seething. She hadn't eaten today. Just something, anything, so she didn't throw up.

There, a quart of milk in the fridge. She sniffed at it, drank deep. A soothing hand covered the interior of her stomach. She put it back, closed the fridge, and found herself staring at children's drawings held by refrigerator magnets. All the same. A crude figure, arms outspread, another figure poking at him with a stick. Stabbing him in the side. More on the walls. The mother, though she must have been puzzled, had put the child's obsessive art up as a point of pride. Wendy pulled one of the images off the wall, tucked it in her coat, and pushed past the tenants again, out to the corridor, coughing as she went.


	26. Unnamed Story Exscript

_Now, before I go any further, I have no clue where this is gonna go. Me and another author (SugarCocoFlower) were just talking and she wrote a paragraph on topic. I wrote another and it kinda spiraled into...this. We don't really know where this is gonna go, but we do have a clear picture on a couple of things. But any suggestions are welcome, and my PM box is open to ideas.__On a different note, I'm planning on updating Ghost Rider, Nobody, and 30 Days of Night sometime this week. So hopefully, if nothing happens, I'll slowly be getting back on track.__And as for those wondering where EZB is, I'm sorry to say, I don't know. I've tried contacting him, but no answer. I'm certain he's okay though and if I hear anything, you guys will be the first to know.__Now, ONWARDS AOSHIMA!!!_

"The princess will be mine and so will her pathetic little kingdom, before I surprise attack its allies and build a gargantuan empire all my own. As long as these bumbling henchmen do the job right, I can't fail!"

"You'll have to go through me, first! You'll never get away with this General Thane!"

"But I already have. Do not kill him yet. I want him to watch me kill his comrades, destroy his home, his people, and...His own dear mother."

"You... fucking MONSTER!!! I WILL HAVE MY VENGEANCE!!"

"Heh, you? What do you care about this nation? The princess? She doesn't love you, you were only another rookie soldier to her. I've no time for your silly fairy tales, happy endings. No one cared to just... Give me what I wanted. I lost everything, my dearest, my sister, my fucking arm. So I'm going to make my own happy ending, I'm going to be remembered. But you, you've sealed your fate coming into MY castle today."

"Your castle? You dare? You come into **_MY_** home? Kill my family? Take away everything I hold dear? No, you fate was sealed the moment your ships invaded. I swear to you, no matter what you do, you will fall. And I will be the one to slice your head from your neck."

Without warning, he headbutted the guard holding him. The guard drooped him, holding his nose in pain, as the man jumped out the nearby window, and into the waters below.

"Bastard!" The burly man reflexively fumbled for his sword and released it from its scabbard. He stood at the window, reaching his head out, but the man swam farther and farther from the building. "G-get him! Damn it, don't let him get away! ARCHERS!!! TOO THE ROOF!! I WANT HIS HEAD!!"

At once the archers obeyed, readying their bows. There were about a dozen, heavily armored from head to toe. They had a clear shot of their enemy; several blows were nearly guaranteed. If they didn't kill him, he was sure to be incapacitated and drown. But not a single man released their grip, and instead turned to Thane.

"Heh... What are you doing?"

The archers fired at the tyrant, three bows striking him. One in the abdomen, one in his synthetic arm, immediately cutting the circuit, and one straight through his left eye. He shambled before falling to the ground, scooting back and gripping his sword as one of the archers inched towards him, removing their helmet, revealing a mess of short Auburn hair and dark brown eyes.

"It's over," she aimed her arrow nearly point blank, and he shakily held his sword to her, unsure of whether to strike.

"P-princess... How did you escape? Where are my men?"

"Dead. And soon, will you be as well. Drop. Your. Sword."

The fallen king dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, hanging his head in defeat.

"You have lost. Your men have turned against you, your ships have fallen, and we have taken back the castle. You're alone."

The king, still hanging his head, let out a low chuckle. Soon it turned into a full blown laugh. "Oh, my dear, sweet Natalia. Who said I was alone... _Assassian_?" he sneered at her as her eyes went wide.

Faster then the men could react, a flurry of arrows rained down from the sky. Natalia spun around in shock as her men fell, dead. Those that weren't we cut down by a lone soldier, his sword a blur, cutting down all in his wake before the could blink.

As the Princess spun forward, she felt a small knife enter her abdomen.

"You know, you Assassin's were a bane in our side for many years. Now, the great Natalia Pines has finally fallen."

She writhed in pain on the ground. He winced as he stood, but nonchalantly pulled the arrow from his prosthetic and repaired it with a multi tool, wiggling his brass fingers.

"If you kill me, my men will take you down, they are loyal to me."

"I don't want you dead," he chuckled as the Templar stood by his side, his body clothed with a gray skintight suit and several belts that held an array of knives and other weapons, a large red Cross on his chest. "He didn't strike any vital organs, as I ordered. I need you to tell me where the Finns are."

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me. The family of... _alchemists_. The ones you are sworn to protect, from men like me who want their... _goods_. I know they're the reason your men could take out my army. But no elixer will save these men from my arrows. Tetrodotoxin has it perks."

"How do you know? Who told you about them?"

"Of course, it was an inside job. I have my ways," he scratched the stubble on his chiseled face. "But that's not important. You can refuse to talk, you can resist the torture to come, but if you do talk-" he was cut off by the pain shooting from the arrows in him, and he winced and choked before continuing. "If you talk you can live, you can still be the princess. And the royal blood running through the veins of our children will ensure them the throne in time. But if not, your sister is to be removed from the dungeon and killed."

"I'm not going to speak."

"Listen," he pulled the knife from her body, causing her to yelp. "You and I both know how this ends. No matter what you do, we will find it and when we do-"

Suddenly, she struck his face with a small blade, making him cry out. He pulled it from her, and scoffed, putting it in his pocket.

"Pathetic weapon. Maybe I'll butter my bread with it," he turned to the hooded man. "Get her back to her cell, make sure she can't escape this time. I need my wounds tended to. We'll make her talk, and soon the Finns will be our captives! And then…we can finally be at peace."

The king groaned on pain as he sat down on his "throne".

Pssh. Throne. If that was a word for it.

This. This was pathetic. All this. A lie. All of it. The tales of kingdoms and kings and queens. False lies conceved by him. And they all fell for it.

Except for her.

She knew who the Finns truly were. That blasted woman. He had lived too long to see her kind return. But he had to admit, she was a damn good actor. Maybe The War hadn't happened she'd be one.

The War. A true tragedy. It had been too long now. So much time had passed now, he couldn't remember the true year. And it pained him.

He was no king.

She was no princess.

There were no kingdoms. Only the lies that he conceived. It had been that way for years. Centuries. He ruled over the ashes of a barren wasteland. He could not remember much, but The Flash... that was burned into his retinas.

He shot up as he heard a door open, grabbing a hidden pistol he kept in his boot. He didn't know why he kept it. He knew it was useless her. But out there…

"She isn't going to talk." A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Then make her talk! I've waited to long to stop now! The Finns are the only ones who know where The Book is!"

His associate paused before continuing. "Forgive me, but why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you still lie to them? After all this time, and you still don't trust your own people."

"You don't understand. You'll never understand. That book is more powerful then anyone will ever understand."

"And what if we find The Finns? What will you tell the people when the find out your fabled elixir is a lie?"

"But it isn't. It's just hard to come by. Extremely."

"So..."

"So, I'm going to worry about it for now. I'm sure she'll escape, and when she does, she'll lead us straight to The Book, and when I have it... Everything be better. Like they were before." He paused.

"Send a truck out to The Outpost on the north side. Have them send their best men. When Pines escapes, we'll follow her. I want. That. Book."

"And the rouge soldier?"

"Leave him. He's no concern to us."

"The Pines is a trained Assassin. She'll kill everyone when she escapes."

"Expendable. Now go."

The storm brought darkness to the desert sooner that it would otherwise have arrived. Frequent flashes of lightning illuminated the scorched and shredded fragments of the day's reckoning: bits of bone, limbs both human and metal that had been divorced from their owners' bodies, pieces of machine that had served humans, pieces of machine that had been motivated by their own ruthless and uncompromising drive. Among the organic and metallic debris, nothing moved save clouds and bursts of torrential rain.

Even the birds and insects had fled.

Amid the destruction, a patch of water stirred and bubbled. Wormlike shapes emerged from the water and thrust skyward. Not snakes, not centipedes—human fingers. The fingers were attached to a hand, the hand to a wrist, the wrist to...

A shape arose, cloaked in mud and dripping fragments of debris. Eyes opened, vitreous but not glowing. Dazed by the reality of itself, arms at its sides, the figure tilted back its head to stare at the storming night. Driving rain lashed mud and dirt from face and ribs, limbs and torso. The shape was that of a man.

Clothes torn and soaked and in shock, Marcus Northwest parted his jaws wide and howled at the sky.

Shivering slightly, Marcus wrapped his arms around his chest and lowered his gaze to the tormented earth on which he stood. Then he noticed the crashed helicopter. Slowly, cautiously, he started toward it. Leaning into the ruined aircraft, a disoriented and bewildered Marcus found himself gazing upon the dead body of one of the pilots, a bullet hole punched neatly through his helmet.

Wet, cold, and very, very alone, he could only stand, stare. But he knew he couldn't go back. He could only hope for the best, and hope he didn't die in the ruined wastelands. But he knew what he had to do. At least... He hoped he did. With everything going on, Natalia entrusted him with one job: find The Book.

And survive.

He brushed the soaking brown hair from his face.

It had seemed easy enough, Natalia knew more than most how to find the book, and the ones who kept it safe. The Finns never stayed in one place, but always left clues to their location that only their allies knew how to decipher. The first key was sent to them whenever the family had moved and the rest was up to the recipient, should they need to find them. He'd used the key given to him to decode the scripts sent by them, and destroyed the key once he knew he'd memorized the decoded message. He just wished Natalia could have explained its meaning, or helped to elaborate, but there was no time for any of that.

He looked at the wrinkled scribes, the rain making some of the characters now unreadable. No matter, he still remember what it said, cryptic as it was.

"Straight through the desert, follow the biggest star out of the forest. The ruins will appear when the sun illuminates 'Her'"

Everything depended on this, but it hardly felt like a mission, or an adventure. It was a fucking scavenger hunt. He looked up at the clouded sky. No stars, no direction. And if he did make it out, with no sun in sight, the rest of the clue would likely be impossible. What kind of idiots were these people, to make the task of finding them only possible if the sun and stars are visible?

He sighed, trudging through the endless terrain, his boots sticking to the mud and making his task that much more excruciating. If he could just find his way out of the desert, he'd be that much closer. In now nearly pitch darkness, Marcus lost his sense of direction more and more, until suddenly a glint of light behind him illuminated a small amount of space surrounding him. Perhaps the moon finally finding its way through the clouds. He was thankful for this, until he felt something press against his back and heard a voice just as cold as the unforgiving night itself.

"Don't move, asshole."

Before he could turn around, he was roughly thrown to the ground. He grabbed his assailants wrist, and brought her down with him.

They tumbled together behind a heavy forklift as a hail of heavy-caliber shells tore into the pavement where Wright had been standing a moment earlier. How they missed them Marcus could not understand. Rising to the fore, half-forgotten instincts took over. Rolling deeper into cover, he found himself face to face with a teenager. When the girl spoke, she did not sound young.

"Come with me if you want to live!"

More slugs ripped the air around the forklift as the figure that had trained its weapon on Marcus started toward them. Red eyes flickered; scanning, seeking, looking to exterminate. The teen led Marcus back around the corner of one crumbling structure. They were out of sight of their attacker and out of range. For the moment.

Facing his young companion, Marcus jerked his head back in the direction from which they had come.

"What the hell is...?"

Despite the difference in their ages and the disparity in size, the teen did not hesitate. She open hand clamped across Marcus's mouth, shutting off the older man's query. In an earlier time and place the blatant physical imposition would have caused him to rip the youth's head clean off. Under the present circumstances, however, he was too confused to do more than accept the gesture.

Pointing in the direction of the bipedal creature that had fired at them, the teen then gestured at her own ear. Only when Marcus nodded that he understood did the youth lower her hand from his mouth.

Time passed: not much of it, and all of it fraught with tension. Advancing toward them, their pursuer was barely visible, and inclined its head in their direction. The muzzle of its rapid-fire weapon rose. That was when the teen slammed her arm down on something metallic protruding from the side of the building against which she and Marcus had been pressed.

The wire that looped around the stalker's right foot was not thick, but it was unbreakable. Machine and machine gun were turned upside-down as the contracting cable yanked it completely off the ground. Frustrated but not disoriented, it struggled violently at this unexpected interruption of its pursuit.

Not waiting around for the machine to free itself, the teen grabbed Marcus's arm and led him down the alley where they had taken cover.

There was barely enough room at the top of the mound of rubble that blocked the entrance to the ruined factory for the youth to wriggle through. Marcus had a harder time, having to rely more on brute force to make his way to the other side. Standing at the base of a disintegrating stairwell, the youth gestured impatiently for him to follow. Too stunned to argue, the older man complied wordlessly.

On the street outside, the stymied machine fired twice at the cable that had wrapped around its right foot. Most shells missed the gleaming, slender target. Those that struck it glanced off. Responding to the overriding resolve of its pursuit programming, it proceeded to shoot off the restraining foot. Thus freed, it slammed into the pavement below with enough force and weight to buckle the old concrete.

Proceeding to right itself, it limped toward the entrance to the factory.

By the time he and his guide reached the roof of the building, Marcus thought he ought to be out of breath. That he was not he attributed to the inevitable surge of adrenalin that always accompanied being shot at.

Halting, the teen flashed a succession of hand signals across the flat surface. A second figure emerged from the shadows. Slight of build and grimy of appearance, the boy as clad in layers of salvaged clothing, child-sized cowboy boots, and an old police hat with a flipped-back brim. A single metal star gleamed on the front of the hat, above eyes that were preternaturally hard. With blonde hair that exploded wire-like from beneath this singular chapeau, he looked to be about 13 or 14.

In response to the older girl's gestures he turned toward what looked like an old railcar wheel assembly. The enormous hunk of rusting metal sat on the edge of the rooftop where at one time it might have handled cargo deliveries. Having long since eroded away, a portion of the underlying structure had been replaced with a series of shims and props.

As he leaned over the edge of the building, the boy was intent on something below. When the moment suited him, he shoved hard against a pole that was centered on the mass of shims. They promptly gave way, followed immediately by several tons of abandoned industrial manufacture. The noise this all made when it struck the street far below was eminently satisfying.

Hurrying to the edge, Marcus peered over and down, and drew back as a burst of automatic fire erupted from below. When none of the shells whizzed in his direction, he took a second look. Pinned beneath the mass of metal, the exposed gun arm of the crushed machine was still firing, but wildly and seemingly without control. It continued to do so until the weapon's magazine ran out.

Shaking his head, he straightened and turned to his youthful savior.

"What the hell was that?"

Stone-face, the teen shook her head curtly. She had the build and look of a lone wolf.

"You first. Who are you?"

Ignoring her, Marcus shifted his attention to the boy.

"What was that?"

Taking a step forward, the youth partially interposed himself between the ingenuous stranger and the boy.

"He doesn't talk much anymore, but you need to. Who are you?" Her voice did not change. All the emphasis it required was provided by the gun she drew and aimed. Marcus regarded it as dispassionately as he did the question.

"I'm—Marcus. Northwest."

This concise response was inadequate to reassure the teen.

"Why are you wearing a Resistance uniform when you're obviously not a member of the Resistance?"

Marcus glanced down at himself, then back up at the youth.

"I—needed a shirt. The dead guy I took it off didn't."

Still wary, the teen began rifling the pockets of the older man's jacket with one hand while keeping the pistol trained on him with the other.

"Well, if you're one of those crazies whose brains turned to oatmeal from radiation poisoning, jump off this roof right now 'cause I'm not letting you get us killed." She continued fishing through the jacket pockets and continued coming up empty.

Marcus stared blankly back at her. Everything that had happened, everything that was happening, was happening too quickly, giving him no time to analyze, no time to digest—only to react.

"I—I don't know where I am," he explained sincerely.

His honesty was insufficient for the teen.

"Nice handle on reality, roadkill." She licked his lips. "Where's your food?"

Marcus mumbled a response. "Roadkill?"

"That's what you're gonna be, you don't start waking up to certain facts. Like who's looking to smoke you and who isn't."

Marcus might have been shocked and his perception stunned, but there was nothing wrong with a lifetime of instinctive reactions. In a single swift, smooth motion he reached out, grabbed the teen's wrist, twisted her around, relieved her of the gun, and shoved. Barely aware of what had taken place, the teen abruptly found herself lying on her back on the rooftop with the muzzle of the gun positioned frighteningly close to her face.

Nearby, the now terrified boy had retreated several steps.

Marcus gazed down at the prone teenager. The girl was shaking, and Marcus knew exactly what she was feeling. Because there had been a time, long ago, when he had all too often found himself in similar situations.

"You want to rip a guy off, make him empty his own pockets. If you do it yourself, you get too close, it gives him a chance to turn things on you. Never get closer than two arm-lengths to whoever you're locking down." Taking no notice of whatever the teen might chose to do, Marcus turned slightly to one side, popped the clip out of the gun, pocketed it, and tossed the weapon onto the teen's chest.

"You point a gun at someone, you better be ready to pull the trigger." He stared down at the youth, who stared back a long moment before finally nodding.

"Right," the teen muttered.

Reaching down, Marcus extended an open hand. As she picked up the gun that had been stripped from her grasp the teen regarded the powerful fingers warily, but decided to accept the offer. The stranger, helping her stand, all but lifted her off the ground.

"Now I'm gonna ask you one more time." Wright indicated the edge of the building. "What the fuck was that thing?"

Back on familiar ground, some of the teen's former boldness returned.

"It's called a Terminator. A T-600. It kills anything that breaths. And once it locks on to you it won't stop—ever. Until you're dead."

Lifting his gaze, Marcus surveyed the surrounding devastation, letting his eyes roam across the ravaged basin as far as heat and haze would allow.

"What day is it?" When the girl looked at him as if he really was crazy, Marcus revised his question. "What year?"

"2078."

"Where am I?" Marcus asked.

"What's left of San Fransokyo" the kid replied.

Marcus stared at the panorama of destruction.

"What happened here? To—everything."

"Judgment Day happened." The teen was eyeing him curiously. "Are you just stupid, or...?"

He didn't finish, probably deciding that the "or" really wasn't important when all that mattered anymore was surviving to the next day.

Marcus rubbed the back of his head, as if the thought itself was painful.

"Gotta get out of here." He muttered to the teen. "Away from this area."

The younger woman's shrug seemed to suggest that geographical designations like "away" no longer held much in the way of relevance.

"Can't go on foot, that's for sure. Machines will cut you down. If you expect to get anywhere you're gonna need speed."

Something, at last, that made sense.

"I need a car."

"Good luck." The teen squinted over at him.

"You're serious, aren't you? Well, it's your funeral. Moving car is just a bigger target." She gestured ahead, toward the nearby hills. "Last time I was up that way I saw a few of 'em by Griffith Observatory that didn't get incinerated. You can try. None of 'em run, though."

"Take me there."

Coming to a halt, the youth was ready with another acid response when the boy suddenly stopped as if shot and dropped to the ground.

"Get down!" she yelled at the stranger. "And when you're down, don't move. Act dead—or you will be."

Marcus complied. Lying motionless, he was starting to feel like a fool when a low rumble became audible. It rose quickly in volume if not pitch. Not daring to raise his head, he caught a glimpse in the broken windows of a nearby building of something in motion. It was enormous, purposeful, and now almost directly overhead.

As the airship moved with lethal deliberation through the canyons of the ruined city, it scanned its surroundings with an assortment of sensitive instrumentation. Seeking sound or movement, it passed by the three inert figures splayed on the ground without reacting.

Marcus winced slightly as a nearby still-standing tower crumbled from the effects of the airship's vibration.

The three humans stayed motionless even after the giant machine's last aural twitch had receded into the distance. Taking his cue from his younger but far more knowledgeable companions, Marcus didn't rise until they did. The teen explained before Marcus could ask his question.

"That's an HK—a Hunter-Killer. Can't stop that with an improvised spring trap." She nodded forward. "We should keep moving."

As they resumed their march Marcus glanced toward the boy.

"How'd he know? That it was coming."

The youngster looked uncertain.

"Not sure. Just glad he does. Better than talking. She's got a sixth sense or something about the machines. He's kept me alive plenty." She lengthened her stride. "We're too exposed here. Pick it up."

Marcus matched the teen's pace effortlessly.

"You know my name now. Who are you?"

"What's it matter?" The teen dodged around the scorched wreck of a city bus. "You had my gun. Why didn't you shoot me?"

"Why would I have done that? I don't shoot people just because..." A memory came rushing back. A bad one. Marcus voice trailed away without finishing the declaration.

The teen frowned at him, appeared to hesitate, came to a decision.

"My name's Elizabeth Butterfly. Come on. Let's go."


End file.
